A. J. J Ratclife (1927) - Story Poems From William Morris PDF

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STORY POEMS FROM

WILLIAM MORRIS
Story Poems from
William Morris
Edited by
A. J. J. RATCLIFF, M.A.
THOMAS NELSON & SONS, Ltd.

LONDON, EDINBURGH, AND NEW YORK
CONTENTS
General Introduction vii
The Life and Death of Jason (Episodes) . 19
Introduction to "Cupid and Psyche” . 169
The Story or “Cupid and Psyche” . . 175
Epilogue
Later Life of the Author .... 232
Questions on “ Jason ” 236
Questions on " Cupid and Psyche ” . . 241
GENERAL INTRODUCTION
I. THE AUTHOR
“You know one has fits of not caring for fishing and
shooting a bit, and then I get tlirough an enormous lot
of reading ; and then anotlier day, when one has one’s
rod in one’s hand, one looks up and down the field, or
sees the road winding along, and I can’t help thinidng of
tales going on amongst it aJQ, and long so for more and
more books.’’ Morris.
His Schoolboyish Disposition . —

William Morris,
author of the two romances in this volume, was all
his life long as much a schoolboy as that other great
romancer. Sir Walter Scott. Like a schoolboy he
preferred making things to reading about them and —
he became the greatest craftsman of his time. Like
a schoolboy, too, when he had not enough to occupy
his time, he turned to " ragging." And again, like a
schoolboy, he thoroughly enjoyed Uncle Remus and
Huckleberry Finn.
Like a bluff, ruddy ship-captain to look at, he was as
active and tireless as if he had been one. He lived life
with a zest. He packed a thousand sorts of skill into
his little more than threescore jêars. And this ex-
traordinary man was bom under a lucky star, aU the
circumstances of his life working in his favour, and
bringing liis various gifts one by one to their full
perfection.
vili GENERjVL IXTRODUCTION
Birth. Bomat Walthamstow on March 24, iS 34 >
three years before the
opening of puecn Victoria =
reign, he was lucky in
dwelling close to Lonclon and vet
only a mile or two from
Eppiiig Forest, so uiW
\\ide-strctching and so excellent a nurse for one later to
dcMunce the ugliness of modem
towns. Part English,
® descent, his family hailed from Wor-
crerer ', and fortune
ftT; lavounng
favouring his
his'father’.s
fatl investment
in a coonpr rnmn ,,
seventh ve.ar, tlie Morrises

croslti
in
Moodford Hall, a large mansion
Sounds on the highroad, in old daj'S
hialnêmiT^n
actually snont f^PPing to London. So he
^l^yf'ood in the Forest, for him a
lanKiea. bmim
tanekd busliv r,nr-,.i:,„
Ss hut It
. ;
low-ltnng in all direc-
K
love of lone
bciSe w
District.
thaf
tit-
f1ict°^
^ wonderful eve for detail and a
Tbe Forestv'r"r'^^‘
skies, so he cared not a
I^»d of sccncrj^ he liked
in his Lake
line, filled his
eve the
its cverj' shape and
about, fishine ôr In as he roamed freely
roasting them’ for rabbits and fieldfares and
ambi-
shoo^'tr'" =»PP<=i--his highest
tion raUiefto
on lus pony Kalloninir
1^°"’ ^’^'l arrow! or —
curly-haired vEion glades, a startling
lb
armour, cuirassedanrl^^'^'^^^ ^ loy
School —
^What an
. sword in hand.
noschooUngtillhewasiibiP^ hearty boy !—and
his pony to a
preoaratn^^^
' trotted daily then on
men " ;\ut in^[f " I?"
come, and he left had to
new and slack.
hoine f^r m II*® I'reak
College, then
But au..-* 1
school was on the ® favoured : tlie
sldrt^^^V^*,
nake Forest, and close \„.,^cer-haunted Saver-
to tn
and ancient burial
or-v .t better mounbe
thfn
mistakes
Sm
Druidic circles
f'^''X^^^^Sbhecon\dMi
end of Ws life he
quite simple
words—he was a
—;
GENERAL INTRODUCTION Lx
reader, and some say he had read Scott’s novels as a
child of four (more probably he had pored over tlie
engravings). However that may be, at Marlborough
College he made such good use of the school library
that he learnt aU there need be learnt at his age of
ancient liistory, and the architecture of old churches
and cathedrals, and such tilings. Nor was this simply
book-learning. He spent his whole holidays explonng
ancient remains, or visiting old churches ; and more,
he lived in the past. There was no effort in it ; he did
it by instinct. And, like young Walter Scott at the
Edinburgh High School, he was a popular tale-teller
despite a habit of keeping aloof from the otlier fellows,
and a fearful and celebrated temper. His passion was
rather for collecting birds’ eggs than for arithmetic or
Latin ; but he was never known to be idle, for when he
had no definite work to do his fingers would be actively
netting, netting, netting. He was a craftsman bom.
All Ills life, in one way or anotlier, he was to be actively
—
“ netting ” whether tapestry, or long narrative
poems, or what else.
A letter to his sister while he was at coDege is the
earliest specimen of his writing extant ; and in it he
sa3's, “ It is now only seven weeks to the hohdays
there I go again ! Just like me ! always harping on
the holidaj^s. I am sure jmu must think me a great
fool to be always thinking about home, but I reallj'
can’t help it. I don’t tliink it ismy fault, for there are
sucli a lot of tilings I want to do and say and see.”
The last sentence reveals how much the cliild was
father of the man.
What he once saw he never forgot ; and seeing
was one of his cliief sources of pleasure. " I re-
member as a boy,” he later said, " going into Canter-
bury Cathedral and thinking that the gates of heaven
had been opened to me ; also when I first saw an
illuminated manuscript. These first pleasures which
I discovered for myself were stronger than an^dhing
X GENER^VL INTRODUCTION
else I liavc had in life." One that he
notice's
to thinh a great deal ;
was, he was aJwa>^
active as he-
—
a dreamer but a dreamer of tilings to do or
saw or
make. He was a practical dreamer, hke tlic craft^^
calhe<iral=.
in the Nidcllc .*\gcs who built the great
he
iVnd tire more he saw of modern life the more
wished that he had lived in the Middle Ages too.
Oxford . —
His people decided that he should cntcr tlic
Church, his tastes all pointing in that direction ; and
so after three years at Marlborough he returned home
to read rvith a tutor, and m
the Lent term of iS53,he
entered Exeter College, Oxford. At the matriculation
examination the previous year he had met onc w’ho
was to be his lifelong friend and fellow-genius
Edward Burne-Jones, who was at that time also in-
tending to take holy orders. And so at Oxford Moms
was very happy, interminghng much reading witli
open-air excursions of everj' sort.
The set he was friendly with were Anglo-Catliolic
—
and Pre-Raphaelite in sj-mpathy tliat is, in Churdi
matters they liked tlie intriûction of more outwurd
beauty tlian had been customary since Puritan daj'S,
more music, more colour, ornament, and ceremony. In
Art and Poetry, they wanted two tilings at once —
greater simplicity tlian, say, in complicated battle
pictures, and also more decoration, such as bright
flowers along the borders of the picture ; they wanted
to go back to the lidi-coloured and cliUdlilce pic-
tures painted in Italy before tlie days of Raphael
(1483-1520). Rossetti was the cliief figure in this
"Pre^-Raphaelite school,” as it came to be known; and
he wielded a great influence over Morris.
—
Sense of Beatdy . Such opinions appealed to William
Morris largely because he had an abnormal sense of
beauty, and perhaps a finer instinct for decoration
tlian any other man in Europe. Pic was naturally
—
at home in Orford in his time still a mediieval city
— and loved its college buUdmgs, its lawns, woods.
GENERAL INTRODUCTION xi
and waterways, alldecorative and peaceful. He won-
dered wh}^ other towns were not beautiful like it.
Then he read a famous chapter of Ruskin's, “ On the
Nature of Gothic,” in which he found the answer:
in the iliddle Ages every' man was a craftsman and
fashioned things completely' for himself, but in modern
times workmen were only' cogs in a huge machine and
took no interest in what they made. This truth stung
Morris to the quick, and henceforward directly and in-
directly' he was to preach the virtue of work suited to
each man’s natural gifts, and the production of beauti-
ful and individual, as against standardized and mass-
produced goods. No longer so keen on entering the
—
Church, he yet had a mission to preach Beauty, and
Joy in Congenial Work. He had become a sworn
enemy of the drab, smoky Victorian Age, in wliich he
could but be " the idle singer of an evipiy day,” But
he was no spineless dreamer ; and at Oxford he added
to his already large number of accomplishments (one
of which was cooking) those of boxing, fencing, and
singlestick play.
First Poetry.—His nickname was Topsy, on account
mop of dark brown hair. One day in
of his wild, curly
1854, at Oxford, he read aloud to Burne-Jones his first
poem. ” As soon as we entered the room,” vTote
Dixon, one of the set, “ Burne-Jones exclaimed \vildly,
’
'
He’s a big poet ‘
! Wlro is ? asked we.
’
Why',
'
Topsy.’ ” The very title of the poem, The Willow and

the Red Cliff, shows Morris straightway a lover of
simple words, and concrete, natuim things, and their
mere names and broad effects he had a sort of fairy
:
tale palette. And it was a simple yet strangely

originalpoem. “ Well,” said Morris, " if this is poetry,
it isvery easy -to write : ” as for liim it always was.
Later he avas to compose in railway trains, or while
weaving tapestry and issuing instructions to workmen,
here, there, and everywhere ; and in a single day he
was to " net ” seven hundred lines of Jason.
—
xii GEXER:\L IKTRODL'CTIO^'
In 1856, he and others started the Oxford
and
Cambridge Magazine, in which his first published work
—
appeared five poems, and a number of short prose
romances. .
Starts Life . — _ _
On coming of age he inherited nearly

a thousand pounds a year. Some time later, when
Burne-Jones and he were on a tour in Normandy, tlicy
decided to give up the idea of the Church, but witli
—
as lofty aims to go in for art Burne-Jones taking Up
painting, Morris architecture. Morris, ha\'ing taken
his B.A., articled himself to the firm of Street, and
soon moved to London. He took rooms in Blooms-
buiy, but when it came to furnishing them, he could
not find in tlie shops any furniture or decorations that
—
would suit, he had to design his own. .'Vnd he Hhed
tlie task.
In less tlian a year he abandoned architecture for
painting, at Rossetti’s advice.
Loic Ebb of Domestic dris. —
In 1S59, when he ^vas
twentj’-five,he married Miss Jane Burden at O.vford.
He now wanted a house. Unable to find one to
his taste, he designed his own, and had it buUt
tJie Red House, near Bexioy. He wanted appoint-
ments for tlie house. Again, as none suitable were to
be had, he designed his own. Even tlien it was ex-
ceedingly hard to get manufacturers to help so did he
;
come to see that tlie cry'ing need of Ids time was for
beautiful houses and beautiful furniture and decorative
effects. Reform could come only from practical
example, wherefore he started Ids own business firm
(1S61) for supphdng evciything to furnish and equip
houses, churches, and pubhc bidldings.
—
Starts in Business . He learnt everj^ craft Idmself,
and enjoj-ed it, whether it wns tliat of dyeing, caning,
stained-glass making, metal-work, jewellen' cutting,
embroidering, tapestry wearing, or whatever else.
He originated new designs in all departments of deco-
ration. The firm developed, finallj» became a success.
GENERAL INTRODUCTION xiii
indeed flourishes ;
still and it is through
cliiefl}'
Morris’s efforts tliat the drab Victorian effects have
given place to the colour harmonies and bright tints of
the present day. He hterally changed tlie face of
modem life.
Still he had not enough to do “ for me to rest from
;
work means to die.” Friendl}’^ though he was, work

alwaj'S came first "he would not give an hour of his
;
time to anj' one, he held it to be too valuable.” His

mad capers when work eased off were sometimes the
terror of his associates. It was his joke when angry
vfith someone to exclaim like Mr. F.'s Aunt, “ Bring
him for'ard, and I’ll chuck him out o’ irinder ” He
was two-sided in character. He liked to fancy himself
sometimes as the Arthurian knight Sir Tristram, or
the Viking hero Sigurd but in less serious mood it
;
was rather as some whimsical Dickensian Boffin or

Joe Gargerjg ivith a "Morning, morning” or "Wot
”
lacks !
—
Writing his Hobby. In addition to his hundred
other activities he always read hard, and best of all he
loved Chaucer’s Canterbury Tales and Malory’s Morte
D’Arthur. Under their influence he frequently wrote.
A collection of dramatic ballads he published in 1859
as The Defence of Quenevere and Other Poems. A good
first volume, it yet did not bring him recognition.
Like tapestry, poetry for him was to become rather a
matter of great surfaces steadily woven ; and he next
began to write long narrative poems of a kind alto-
getiier new in English. Thus, in 1867, when he was
thirty-three, came The Life and Death of Jason, and
fame.
;
XIV GENER.\L 1^:TR0 DUCTI 0^:
II. HOW JASOK CAME TO BE WRITTEN

" II a chap can't compose an epic poem wiiilc he's
weaving tapestiy, he liad better shut up, he’ll never do
any good at ali.” JIorris.
^[orris’s Dream World. —Mlierever he turned,

Morris saw the evils of industrialism. Life had be-
come so smoke-begrimed and vulgar tiiat bcauW had
fled to the remote counttysidc and poetry' was re-
;
duced to seeking its stories and settings in the past.

To escape tire ugliness around him, he fled in tliought
to the Middle Ages and to the palmy days of Greece
and gradually he saw that by creating his own world
there in poetry he could show others how life ought
to be lived, and amidst what scenes of nature and
art. 'Tlte plain world was lacking, so he tyould give
substance to his dreams. Others reading his words
might then join liim in dissatisfaction v.'itli modem
cottditions ; at least thej’ would share his inlieritaitce
of beauty worship, and
Forget six counties overhung with smoke.

Forget tile snorting steam and piston-stroke.
Forget the spreadmg of the hideous town;"
So did he undertake to tell a great series of old

stories as Chaucer had done in the Caritcrbury Tales,
and of whidi more tvill be related in the Introduction
to Cupid and Psyche (see p. 169). However, the first
tluee, taken from Greek legend, proved too unwieldv
for the series, and Jason, tlte best of them, was pub-
lished by itself (tlte other two were abandoned) in
June 1867.
—
Narrative Poetry : TTTij* ? Ît was instinctive for
Morris to choose the narrative form. This might have
been because, like Scott, action and movement were
GENERAL INTRODUCTION xv
his element, or because narrative afforded the motive
for introducing tapestried pictures of dress and back-
ground perhaps both were involved, but certainly
;
he had not Scott’s supremely' direct sense of action.

It is very difficult to excel in narrative poetry'. It
means not only' the conduct of a story' and the handhng
of dramatic incidents, but the constant tracing in
action of the character of the cliief figures, and the
accumulation of such details of manners, customs,
dress, and scene as v'iU produce a definite atmosphere.
A great narrative poem is more like a play of Shake-
speare’s than like an old ballad, only it is simpler.
Narrative being the form, a story had to be chosen.
With Morris it had to be a story of a perfect land with
beautiful externals, and OTth freedom for every one to
pursue a fuU life according to his owp character and
gifts. An ideal Ancient Greece was the obi'ious place.
Then, too, Morris had an abiding sense of the shortness
of life, and the necessity of giving life colour and worth
by brave deeds or the matog of beautiful tilings. If
life were a great hall, then it needed a feast set and
bright tapestry on the walls to relieve it from resembling
a bam. Wherefore Morris’s favourite idea for a story
was that of a heroic lover undergoing great physical
trials for the sake of winning his bnde. The story
of Jason, therefore, who made his perilous voyage for
the Golden Fleece in the Greek age of discovery and
exploration, and won for his bride the beautiful sor-
ceress Medea, was ideal. ,
Collecting his Materials . —

^Long attracted to the
story, he had yet to procure materials for a detailed
picture. Like any schoolboy he first consulted his
Lempriere’s Classical Dictionary rmder such heading
asr AsGONAUTiE, Jason, Medea, Phryxus, Helle,
and the like. From the articles on these he gathered
an idea of the sundry versions of the story, and ob-
tained a list of the classical authors who have handed
them down to us. He learnt that the original epic of
xvi GEXER^VL INTRODUCTION
the Argonauts is lost, but that from it in the third
centurv B.c. the Alexandrian librarian, Ajxillonius of
Rhodes, rsTOte his poem Argonautica, which is extant.
Tins book furnished most of what Morris wanted. For
incidents in Jason's young days, however, Morris con-
sulted another old writer, Apollodorus (second cen-
tury B.C.), who wTote a history’ of the gods and ancient
heroes. M'ith a hint from one or two other Greek rmd
Latin authors, nnd the resolve to tone down anjihing
repugnant to modem taste, and to invent his own inci-
dents, speeches, and scenes whenever requisite, Ivlorris
was able to go forward with the poem.
He safely got his hero into the Black Sea and the
Land of the Golden Fleece, and safely got him the
Fleece itself, but it was a pretty problem how to carry
him home again. Jason could not go home the way
he had come, because enemies in ovcrrvhelming
numbers were Ijing in wait to attack him at the
straits.The Ancient Greeks themselves were at odds
on the Pindar made him return by China and
point.
the Indian Ocean ! Apollonius sent him 150 miles
overland rvith his ship to the Adriatic Sea, and thence
by the Mediterranean home. Morris, who liked tlie
Saxon and Viking North of Europe only second to
Greece, decided on a fresh route taking in the Dnieper
from the Black Sea, the Vistula to the Baltic, and the
—
retnrn by the North Sea a quite impossible under-
taking, but only in keeping u-ith medieval marvels
(and this Greek poem, as we shall see, xuas really
medieval). Indeed, by omitting place-names, and
shrouding everything in mysteiyy tire strange route
he chose became passably credible.
Style and Characters. —To conceive a graceful and
brave Jason, with no particular difierence from any
other graceful and brave hero, was the work of a
moment. The heroine, Medea, was more problematic.
Anciently a u’ildcat of a woman, she would not answer
demands ; the Greeks might despise
GENERAL INTRODUCTION xvii
her as a barbarian, but at this distance of tune preju-
dice might weU be forgotten. She should be above all
gentle, a most alluring and faithful wife, but passionate
and capable of pitiless hate, a dream-figmre that might
at any moment tirm the dream to nightmare. As for
the other characters, thej' should be merelj^ mdicated,
like heads in a crowd.
For the style, it should be as utterly simple as the
English language would allow. Simplicity was the
ke5mote of &eek art : it was equally that of Chaucer
and the Middle Ages. No attempt should be made to
present the story strictl}^ true to its Greek period, for
it was to be cast
as a mediaval romance, unth tlie
scene an enchanted clime, “ out of place, out of time,”
where Argos was a red-gabled town unth swinging
bells like Bruges or Chartres. It should be the dream
of a mediaeved poet and simplicity, tvith a dash of
;
”
old-fashioned words like “ spake ” and “ clomb
would suggest the right atmosphere. If birds were to
be mentioned, they should be the simplest, and men-
tioned again and again : the favourite, the nightin-
gale, should indeed always be just ” the browm bird.”
If flowers, they should not be birdsfoot trefoil or
shepherd’s purse, but alwaj'S roses, lilies, sunflowers,
tnolets, or daisies. There should be no local detail of
the sea, only expressions like “ the water wan ” (which
occurs himdreds of times). No particular passages
should be “ purple ” to tire grey of the rest all
:
should be a unifonn dim blue.

Such a style befits loom-made poetry and the
author who was so busy “ netting ” at school. The
result is a coloured, uniform fabric of exquisite
beauty, to be read very slowly \vith dreamy simplicity.
i3>poo lines (reduced in this book almost to a half
by_ omitting some less necessary tapestrj’’-work) were
quickly written, but show no signs of hasty workman-
ship, since all Morris’s life had gone to its preparation.
All passes,” writes Professor Elton, “ as a pageant
(2.S6S> 2
xviii GENERAL INTRODUCTION
in a cr>-stal." Its sountl is “the prolonged sleepy
lapping of a metre that flows like a lullaby," %vrotc
Dixon^ Scott, “ like the murmur on a midsummer
beach, the verv’ accent of earthly content."
And unlike Paradise Lost, with which the dreamer
Morris had little sympathy, it starts at the begiiiui’^5
— the birth of Ja'ôn, m
the dim early days of Greece,
a generation before the time of the Trojan War and
tlie great epics of Homer.
III. HOW TO READ THE POEM

“ It makes me laugh to be in the position of nui.sanco to
—
schoolboys." ^M orius, in a letter to the Headmaster of
tire Forest School.
(«) On a second or later reading, two maps should

be drawn —one of Ardent Greece showing
all places
given in the text, the other of Europe Viitlr a red ink
indication of the route followed by Ago. Main
approximate distances should be marked.
{b) It should be noted that, in accordance rvith old
practice, Greek not being studied in England in tire
Middle Ages, Morris usually employs the Latin names
of gods and goddesses. To-day the Greek form is
preferred.
(c) On a
first reading the notes at the foot of the
pag^ should be consirlted only to solve real diffl-
culties of meaning. On a second or later reading
they may all be read, and the hints for observation
followed.
;
STORY POEMS FROM

WILLIAM MORRIS
THE LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON
A POEM
Argument
Jason, the son of Aison, Inng of lolchos, ha^'ing come
to man’s estate, demanded of Pehas his father’s langdom,
winch he held wrongfully But Pehas answered, that if
he would bring from Colchis the golden fleece of the ram
that had earned Phiôms thither, he would yield him his
nght WTiereon Jason sailed to Colclus in the ship Argo,
with other heroes, and by means of Medea, tlie fang’s
daughter, won the fleece and earned oS also Medea
,
and so, after many troubles, came back to lolchos again.

There, by Medea’s iviles, was Pehas slam ; but Jason
went to Connth, and hved with Medea happily, tall he
was taken ivith the love of Glauce, the fang’s daughter
of Corinth, and must needs wed her ; whom also Hledea
destroyed, and fled to Aigeus at Athens ; and not long
after Jason died strangely.
BOOK I
In Thessaly, beside the tumbhng sea.

Once dwelt a folk, men called the Minyie ;
For, coming from Orchomenus the old,
Beanng their wives and children, beasts and gold,
Tlirough many a league of land the}' took tlieir way.
And stopped at last, where in a sunny bay
a tomi founded
byOrdiomenus, son of Minyas — Lake Copais
Orchoiiimits, In Bceotia, north-west of ;
the origin of the names.

^lienee
20 STORY POEMS FROM ?»IORRIS
The green Anaurus cleaves the white sea-sand.
And easUvard inland doth Mount Pelion stand,
\Miere hears and wolves the centaurs’ arrows find ;
And southward is a gentle sea and kind.

Nigh landlocked, pcopk-d with all kinds of fish.
And the good land 3’ields all that man can wish.
So there thej' built lolchos, that each da\’'
Grew great until all these were passed awaj',
With manj' another, and Cretheus the king
Had died, and left his crown and everv'thing
To /Eson, his own son bj* fair Tj’ro ;
Whom, in unhappy- da\-s and long ago,

A God had loved, whose son was Pclias.
And so. within a while, it came to pass
This Pclias, being covetous and strong
And full of wiles, and deeming naught was wrong
That wrought him good, thrust /Eson from his throne.
And over all the Minj'a: reigned alone ;
While /Eson, like a poor and feeble lord,

Dwelt in lolchos still, nor was his word
Regarded much bj' anj- man therein.
Nor did men labour much his praise to win.
Now ’mid all this a fair young son he had ;
And when his state thus fell from good to bad
He thought, “ Though Pclias leave me alonenow
Yet he may wish to make quite sure his throne
By slaying me and mine, some evil day ;
Therefore the child will I straight send away.

Ere Pelias feels his high seat tottering.
And gets to know tl\c terrors of a king.
That blood alone can deaden.’’ Therewithal
A faithful slave unto him did he call.
And bade him from his nurses take tlie child
Anaunis, Astream in Magnesia, a district of Thessalv
Centaurs, literally “ ljull-goaders," a race of beings' half men and
half horses, perhaps representing an early idea of men on
horsebadr.
A God, Enipeus, a river-god ; or else Neptune.
Pelias, laterally lead-coloured, from a bruise on his face.
;
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 21

And bear him forth unto the forest uold
About the foot of Pelion : There should he
Blow loudly on a horn of ivory
That ^son gave him ; then would come to him
A Centaur, grave of face and large of limb.
Before whom he should fall upon his knees-
And, holding forth the child, say words Hke these :
“
O my lord Chiron, Aison sends me here
‘
To say, if ever 3^0 have held him dear.

Take now this chUd, his son, and rear him up
Till we have fully drained the bitter cup
The fates have filled for us ; and if times change
\ATiile through the peaceful oakwood here 3ôu range,
And the crowm comes upon the youngling’s head.
Then, though a Idng right fair apparelled.
Yet unto you shall he be but a slave.
’
Since now from fear his tender years you save ;
" And then,” quoth iEson, '' aU these words being

said.
Hold out this ring, set rvith a rub3’' red.
Adorned with dainty little images.
And this same horn, whereon, 'twixt caiann trees,
Diana follows up the fl3dng hart
They shall be signs of truth upon your part.
Then leave the child witli him and come to me.
;
Minding what words the Centaur saith to thee ;
Of whom thou needest have no whit of fear.”
Now, since the moonless night and dark was come.

Time was it that the child should leave Iiis home ;
And saddled in the court the stout horse stood

That was to bear them to the Centaur’s wood ;
•And slave stood ready by his lord
tlie tried
With wallet on liis back, and sharpened sword.
Then, being momited, forth into tlie night
They rode, and tlius has Jason left his home.
Goddess of hunting ; in Greek, Artemis.

; —
22 STORY POEMS FROM MORKIS

All night tlwiv rode, and at the dawn,
being come
Unto the outskirts oi the {orest wild,
They leit the horse, and the still sleeping cluia
The slave bore in his anus, until they came
Unto the place where, living (rec irom blasnc,
Cliiron the old roamed through the oaken wood.
Until at last in sight the Centaur dreav,
A mighty grey horse, trotting down the glade.
Over whose back the long grey locks were lard,
Tliat from his reverend head abroad did flow
For to the waist was man. but all below
A mighty horse, once roan, now well-nigh white
With lapse of years ; with oak-wreaths was lie digin
Where man joined unto horse, and on his head
He wore a gold crown, set with ruiiics red.
And in his hand he bare a mighty how,
No man could bend of tliose that battle now.
So, when he saw' liim coming tJiroiigh the trees,
The trembling slave sunk down upon liis knees
And put the child before him but Chiron,
; , ,
\\Tro knew' all things, cried : “ Man with /Eson s

son,
Thou needest not to tell me who thou art,
Nor will I fail to do to Iiim my
part
A vain tiling were it, truly, iFl strove.
Such as I am, against the will of Jove.
Lo ! now, this youngling, set ’twixt tlrce and me
In days to come a mighty man shall be.
Well-nigh the mightiest of all those that dwell
Between Olympus and Malea and wcU ;
Shall Juno love him till he come to die.

Roan, Of one colour variegateii rvith patclies of another e.g., chest-
nut mixed with white.
DigUl, Decked.
Jove, King of the Gods ; in Greek, Zeus.
Olympus and Malea, The northern and southern extremes of Greece,
opunpus, a mountain on the northern border of Thessaly ; on
itssummit(io,ooofeet)stoodlhepalacesof theGods. Malea, a
cape in the Peloponnesus.
Juno, W'iie of Jove ; in Greek, Hera.
: ;

“Now get thee to thy master presently.
But leave with me the red ring and the horn.
That folk may know of whom tliis boy was bom
In days to come, when he shall leave tliis wild :
And lay between my arms the noble child.”

So the slave jojdul, but still half afraid.
Within the mighty arms young Jason laid.
And gave up both the horn and the red ring
Unto the Centaur, who tlie horn did shng
About liim on his finger, with a smile.
;
Setting the ring and in a little while

;
The slave departing, reached the open plain.

And straight he mounted on his horse again.
And rode on toward lolchos all the day.
And as the sunset darkened every way.
He reached the gates, and coming to his lord.
Bid liim rejoice, and told him every word
That Chiron said. Right glad was iEson then
That from his loins a great man among men
Should thus have sprang ; and so he passed his days
Full quietly, remote from fear or praise.
(Meanwhile Pelias, dreading punishment for his evil

deeds, built a temple to the goddess Juno.)
Moreover, to Dodona, where the doves

Amid the oak-trees murmur of their loves.
He sent a messenger to know his fate ;
^Vho, up the temple steps, beneath the weight

Of precious tilings went bending ; and being come
Back from the north to his Thessalian home.
Gave forth this answer to the doubtful king
“ O Pelias, fearful of so many a tiling.
Darkened a cry Tv ay, A Homeric cxpreîon.
Dodona^ In Epirus, or on the border of Thessaly ; seat of tlic most
ancient Greek oracle. The answers were given by the rustling
of the oaks in a grove about the temple of Jupiter. Priestesses
interpreted the rustling. It was supposed that a black dove
from Egvpt had first indicated the sacredness of the place
and doves frequently gave oracular responses there.
24 STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Sit merry o'er thy wne. sleep safe and soft,
Witliin dry golden lK.*d ; for surely oft
Tire snows shall fall before the half-shod
Can come upon thee through the water wan.
So at tlris word the king along the shore
Built many a tower, and still more and more
Drew men unto him skilled in spear and bow ;
And through Ure streets full often would he go
Beset with guards, and for the rest began
To be a terror unto every m;m.
And yet indeed were all vam,
these things but
For at the bane
foot of Pelion grew his
In strength and comeliness from day to day.
And swiftly passed Iris childislr years away
Unto whom Chiron taught the worthy lore
Of elders who the udde world filled before ;
And how to forge his iron arrow-heads ;
And how to find within the marshy steads

The stoutest reeds, and from some slain bird’s wng
To feather them, and make a deadly tiling ;
And through the woods he took him, nor would spare

To show him how the just-awakened bear
Came hungry from his tree, or show liim how'
The spotted leopard’s lurking-place to luiow ;
And many a time they brought tlie hart to bay.
Or smote the boar at hottest of the day.
(One mom in tlie woods did Jason meet a seeming

tuntress.)
“ Jason,” she said, “ allfolk shall know' tlij' name,

For verily the Gods shall give thee fame.
Half-shod, Witli one sandal on, and one off
Water wan, A stoclt expression in this poem. TT'nn is used in
archaic sense of dark, or hlack,—here the meaninc is ** dark
blue.”
Bane, Fated cause of his downfall.
Irm arrow-heads anachronism ; even a generation later, during
the Trojan War, bronze alone was used.
Steads, Places.
\ATiatever they keep back from thee behold :
Restless thou shalt be, as thou now art bold ;
And cunning, as thou now art skilled to watch

The crafty bear, and in the toils to catch
The grey-maned yellow hon ; and now see
Thou doest my commands, for certamly
I am no mortal ; so to Clriron teU
No longer is it fitting thou shouldst dwell
Here in the udlds, but in a daj' or two.
Clad in Magnesian garments, shalt thou go
Unto lolchos, and tlrere daim thine own.
And unto thee shall Chiron first make knorni
The story of thy father and thy kin,
That thou mayst know what right thou hast herein.”
Then Jason fell a-tremblmg, and to him
The tall green stems grew wavering and dim ;
And when a fresh gust of the morning breeze

Came murmuring Mong the forest trees,
And woke him as from dreaming, all alone
He stood, and vdth no farewell she was gone.
Leaving no traces of her dainty feet.
But through the leaves ambrosial odours sweet
Yet floated as he turned to leave the place,
And with slow steps, and thinking on his case.
Went back to Chiron, Nvhom he found laid there
Half sleeping on the th3miy herbage fair.
To whom he told the things that he had heard.
With flushed and eager face, for the}^ had stirred
New thoughts within him of the days to come ;
So that he longed to leave his w'oodland home.
Then Chiron said " O fair son, thou shalt go.
:
Since now, at last, tlie Gods will have it so :
And know that till thou coraest to the end

Of thy loved life, shall Juno be tliy friend.
Because the lovely huntress tliou didst see
Late in the greenwood certainly was she
Ambro'nal, Divinely fragrant ;

ambrosia was the food of the Gods.
Who sits in heaven iêside Almiphty Jove.
And noble things they do that have her love.
“ son, to-day I rede thee not to go,
Kow.
Nor yet to-morrow, for clouds groat utkI ‘^low
Arc gathering round the hill-tops, and I think
Tlic thirsty fields full many a draught will drink ;
Therefore to-day our cups shall not be dry.

But \vc will sit together, thou and 1,
And talcs of thy forefathers shalt thou hear.
And many another, till the heavens clear.”
So was it as the Centaur said for soon ;
Tlic woods grew dark, as though they knew no

noon :
The thunder growled about the high brown hills.

And the thin, wasted, sliining summer rills
Grew joyful \nth the coming of the rain,
And doubtfully was shifting even,' vane
On the town spires, uith changing gusts of wind ,’
Till came the storm-blast, furious and blind.

Meanwhile, within a pleasant lighted place.
Stretched upon warm skins, did tire Centaur lie.
And nigh liim Jason, listening eagerly
The tales he told him, asking, now and then.
Strange questions of the race of vanished men
Nor were the ivine-cups idle ; till at last
Desire of sleep over their bodies passed,
And in their dreamless rest the wind in vain
Howled round about, wdtli washing of the rain.
BOOK II
So tliere they lay until the second davm

Broke fair and fresh o’er glittering glade and lawm ;
UedCf Advise. An archaism.

: the sound a
hîsWen the
;

Then Jason rose, and did on
liim a fair
Blue woollen tunic, such as folk do wear
On the Magnesian cliffs, and at his thigh
An iron-hilted sword hung carefully ;
And on his head he had a russet hood ;
And in Ids hand two spears of coniel-wood
Well steeled and bound with brazen bands he shook.
Then from the Centaur’s hands at last he took
The tokens of his birth, the ring and horn.
And so stept forth into the sunny mom.
And bade farewell to Chiron, and set out
With eager heart, that held small care or doubt.
So lightly through the wcll-knoivn woods he passed,
And came out to the open plain at last,
And went till night came on him, and then slept
Within a homestead that a poor man kept
And rose again at dawn, and slept that night
Nigh the Anaums, and at morrow’s light
Rose up and went unto the river’s brim ;
But fearful seemed tlie passage unto 1dm,

For swift and yellow drave tlie stream adomi
’Twixt crambling banks and tree-tmnks rough and
;
brown
\^diirled in the bubbling eddies here and there ;
So swollen was the stream a maid might dare
To cross, in fair days, udth unwetted knee.
Then Jason vuth his spear-shaft carefully
Sounded tlie depth, nor any bottom found ;
And M’istfull}'- he cast his ei'es around
To see if help was nigh, and heard a voice
Behind him, calling out, “ Fair 5'outh, rejoice
That I am here to help, or certainty
Long time a dweller hereby shoiddst thou be.”
Comely Cherry.
Drate, archaic form of "drove.” Adoxn^ Archaic form of
An
“do^vn.” Collect as you go on further examples of the em-
ployment of these Anqio-Saxon and Middle English arcliaisms.
\Miat effect do they produce ?
Then Jason turned round quickly, and beheld
A woman bent w'ith burdens and with eld. ana
Grey and broad-shouldered ; so he laughed,
said
“ wilt thou help me ? by
O mother, head, my
Jlore help tlian thine I need upon this day.”
“ 0 son,” she said, “ needs must thou on thy way I
And is there any of the giants here

To bear thee through this water without fear ?
Take, then, the help a God has sent to thee.
For in mine arms a small thing shalt thou be.”
So Jason laughed no more, because a frowni
Gathered upon her brow, as she cast down
Her burden to the earth, and came anigh.
And raised him in her long arms easily,
And stept adown into the water cold.
There with one arm the hero did she hold,
And with the other thrust the whirling trees
Away from them and laughing, and with ease
;
Went through the yellow foaming stream, and came

Unto the other bank ; and little shame
Had Jason that a woman carried him.
For no man, howsoever strong of limb.
Had dared across that swollen stream to go.
But if he wished the St 5’gian stream to know ;
Therefore he doubted not, that with some God

Or reverend Goddess that rough wav he trod.
So when she had clomb up the slippery bank
And let him go, well-nigh adown he sank.
For he was dizzy with the washing stream,
And with that passage mazed as with a dream.
But, turning round about unto the crone.
He saw' not her, but a most glorious one.
Take, then, ihc help, etc. Note that this couplet is monosyllabic.
Find others.
But Unless (archaic).
if,
Stygtafi stream. The Styx, that flowed nine times round hell. Its
water possessed deadly properties.
Ctouc, Withered old woman.
—
A lady dad in blue, all glistering
With something more than gold, crowned like the king
Of all the world, and holding in her hand
A jewelled rod. So when he saw her stand
With unsoiled feet scarce touchmg the wet wa3^
He trembled sore, but therewith heard her sa}^ .
“ O Jason, such as I have been to thee

Upon this day, such ever will I be ;
And I am Juno ; therefore doubt thou not
A mighty helper henceforth thou hast got
Against the swords and bitter tongues of men.
For surely mayst thou lean upon me, when
The turbulent and little-reasonmg throng
Press hard upon thee, or a king with wong
Would fam undo thee, as thou leanedst now
Within the yellow stream so from no blow
•
Hold back thine hand, nor fear to set thine heart

On what thou deemest fits th}' kmgly part
“ Now to the king’s throne this day draw anear.
Because of old tune I have set a fear
Within his heart, ere yet thou hadst gamed speech.
And whilst thou wanderedst beneath oak and beech,
Unthinkmg. And, behold so have I wrought.
'
That with thy coming shall a sign be brought

Unto him ; for the latchet of tliy shoe
Rushing Anaurus late I bade undo,
WTiich now IS earned swiftly to the sea.
“ So Pelias, this day settmg eyes on thee.
Shall not forget the shameful tnckhng blood
Adown my altar-steps, or in my wood
The screaming peacocks scared bj^ other screams.
Nor yet to-night shall he dream happy dreams.
" Farewell then, and be joyful, for I go
Unto tlie people many a thmg to show.
Laichet, The thong for fastening the sandal

Blood Pclias and his brother Nelens had slain Sidero for cruelty
to her stepdaughter T> ro, nho was their mother.
PcocockSf Birds sacred to Juno
30 STORY FORMS FROM MORRIS
„
And scl thorn longing for forgotton tlnii!;''.^
o-. ku b
\Mwso raMi h.inds tovs about the crowns
jaôn, bv AnaunH Uft alone.
Now
Found indood, hi'^ nght-foot ?hoc ttn'i g
th.it,
But, as the Goddc-'S bade him. went his
Half shod, and by an hour before mid-c»a\
He reached the city gaf s. and entered
Whom the folk mocked, bi holding his ’
And iron-hilted sword, and uncouth weed :

But of no man did he take any heed.
So in a while ho cimtc where there was sot
Pelias the king, judging the people there.
Now, when the yellow head of Jason broke
From out the throng, with fearless eyes and gtc> >
A
terror took the king, that ere that day
For many a peaceful year he had not felt,
And his hand fell upon hts swordless belt ;
But when the hero strode up to the throne,

And sot his unshod fool upon the stone
Of the last step thereof, and as he stood,
Drew off the last fold of his russet hood,
And with a clang let fall his brass-bound spear.
The king shrunk back, grown pale with deadly
fear;
Nor tlien the oak-trees’ speech did he forget.
Noting the one bare foot, and garments wet,
And something half remembered in his face.
And now nigh silent was the crowded place.
For through the folk remembrance Juno sent,
^d soon from man to man a
murmur went.
And frowning folk were whispering deeds of shame
And wrong the king had WTought, and iFson’s name,
Forgotten long, was bandied all
about
And silent mouths seemed ready for a’shout
WHh £"aSS
-With fear, fa ivrathful, timorous shook
and turned
look
Wcedf Garment '
The oracle Of Dodona.

: ; —
On his iEtolian guards, upon his ears
There fell the clashing of the people’s spears ;
And on the house-tops round about the square
Could he behold folk gathered here and there,
And see the simbeams strike on brass and steel.
But therewithal, tliough new fear did he feel,
He thought, “ Small use of arms in this distress,
"
Needs is it that I use my wiUness ;
Then spoke aloud “ O man, what wouldst thou here.
:
”
That beardest thus a king with little fear ?
" Pelias,” he said, " I will not call thee king.
Because tliy cro^vn is but a stolen thing.
And with a stolen sceptre dost thou reign,
\^Tiich now I bid thee render up again,
And on his father’s throne my father set,
'Whom for long years the Gods did well forget.
But now, in lapse of time, remembering.
Have raised me, Jason, up to do this thing.
His son, and son of fair Alcimide ;
Yet now, since thou m3' father’s brother art, 1
In no wise would I hurt thee, for my part.

If thou wilt render to us but our own.
And still shalt thou stand nigh my father’s throne.”
Then all the people, when aright they knew.
That this was Aison’s son, about them drew.
And when he ended gave a mighty shout
But Pelias cleared his face of fear and doubt.
And answered Jason, smiling cunningly
“ Yea, in good time thou comest mito me.
My nephew Jason ;
fain would I la}' down
This heavy weight and burden of a crown.
And have instead my brother’s love again,
I lost to win a troublous thing and vain ;
And yet, since now thou showest me such goodwill.

Fain would I be a king a short while stiU,
Italian guards, From iEtoIi.i in central Greece.

Beardest. To beard is to defy openly.
Alcimtde, Wife of ,3ison.
32 STORY POE^5S FRO>T MORRIS
That everything in order I may ?et,
Ror any man tliercby may trouble get.
And now I bid thee stand by me to-da}',
And cast all fear and troublous thoughts awaj .
And for thy father .'Eson wall I s< nd.

That I may see him a.s a much-lovcd friend.
Now that these years of biitemcss are pas^d.
And peaceful days arc come to me at last."
With that, from out the press grave iEson came.
E’en as he spoke for to his cars the fatuc.
;
Of Jason’s coming thither had been brotight

WTiercfore, with eager eyes his son he sought
But, seeing the mighty hero great of limb.
Stopped short, with eyes set wistfully on him,
Wdiile a false honeyed speech die king began :
" Hail, brother /Eson, hail, happy man 1
O
To-day thou winnest back a noble son,
Wliose glorious deeds this hour secs bcgtin.
And from my hands thou tvinnest back the crotvn
Of this revered and many-pcoplcd town ;
So let me win from thee again thy love.
Nor with long anger slight the Gods above.”
Then Jason, holding forth the horn and ring.
Said to his father, “ Doubtest thou this thing ?
Behold the tokens Chiron gave to me
When first he said tiiat 1 was sprung from tlrce.”
Then little of those signs did dison reck.
But cast his arms about the hero’s neck.
Wherefore unto him, like an empty dream.
The busy place, die king and folk did seem.
As on drat sight at last he set his eyes.
Prayed for so oft wth many a sacrifice •
And speechless for a while fain must he’stand,

Holdmg within his hand die mighty hand •
*
Until at last he said; “ All honour now
PresSf Crowd (archaic).
Dream. Notice whether this word occurs H it
often or not.
does, it would seem to be a clue
to the character of the poem*
; ; :

To Jove and all the Gods Surely, I know.
!
Henceforth my name shall never perish more.

“ And as for thee, O Pelias, as I may.
Will I be friend to thee from this same da}'
And since we both of us are grovdng old,
And both our lives vull soon be as tales told,
I think perchance that thou wilt let me be.
To pass these few years in felicity
That this one brings me.”
, _
Thereon Pelias said
Yea, if I hurt thee aught, tlien on my head
Be every curse that thou canst ever think ;
And dying, of an ill draught may I drink.
For in my mind is nought but wish for rest.
”.But on this day, I pray thee, be m3' guest,
yet upon m3' head I wear the crovui,
vn
uduch, ere this morning’s flowers have fallen down,
y our head shall bear again for in the hall,
;
Upon the floor the fresh-plucked rushes fall,
Even as we speak, and maids and men bear up
Ihc Idngly sen'ice many a jewelled cup
;
And silver platter ; and the fires roar
Atout the stalled ox and the woodland boar.”
vt'-
gpod words said he, but the thoughts were bad
ithin his crafty breast and still he drought
^ ;
How best he might be rid of him just brought.
By sentence of the Gods, upon his head.
Then moved the kinsmen from the market-stead
into die palace, where right ro3'ally
\\ as Jason
clad, and seemed a prince indeed.
the harp-string and shrill-piping reed
c+Mi°
*tUl sounded, trooped die folk unto the feast.
And all were set to meat, both most and least
AndAvhen with dainties they were full}' fed,
then die tall jars and well-sewn goat-skins bled.
Note the dramatic irony.

Scy/t Tr.*’
Bttcned in his stall.
ihe seven-reeded p.an-pipe. Gisit-shr.s, Contaimng vnne.
i r- i
(2,tC3) 2
And men grew glad, forgetting every care.
Until at last, when twilight was nigh gone
And dimly through the place tlie gold outshone,
He bade them bring m torches, and \vhile folk
Blinked on the glare that through the pillars broke,
He said to J.oson :
" Yet liavc 1 to tell
One tale I would that these sliould hear as well
As you, O Prince.” .\nd therewith did he call
the herald, bidding him tliroughout the hall
Crj' silence for tlie storj' of tlic
king.
then told the following tale of the Golden
of Tlicbc.s in Boeotia, had two cliildrcn,

.. u
^ Sirl- But tiring of his wife
cruo^ Ino. married tlie beautiful yet
cruel He had two more children but as Phn'xus •
and Helle were the true heirs to
the crowif IM was
jeMous, and plotted tlieir destruction
men nnknown to the

the good seed com, wliich then
^ i
in The coun^^"fn and a famine set
“
e.x-queen Nephele at one time
iT i, •
•
fore must ?acS

ttie^^lê^KTrûs y-xus ana neue, oi
worse famine would ensue.
Howler, it so happened that in the
court was kept
SoSts “lii
lXs,rSe‘l;,s?of dash asi^
the sacrificers, and bear the
through the slw. intended victuns afar off,
to herTeStte^sS^^ “d foU
Helle's Sea); But ^luyxus at lengtli HeUespont (or
crossed tlie Eu-xine
Atid mm grm> glad. Note how Prominent ^
Ne bade. The king bade. feasUng is in Jason,
(or Black Sea) and reached the coast of Colchis (the Cir-
cassian coast), and thence passed up the nver Phasis
(modem Poti), to descend at the city of JEsl, and be wel-
comed by êtes the king.
Next mom, when the ram had been sacrificed to Saving
Jove, its fleece was hung upon the wall of Phryxus’
house. And long did Phryxus dwell at Aia in wealth
and honour, till jEetes slew him in order to possess the
Golden Fleece. And to this day does iEetes keep it,
hanging somewhere within his golden palace )
“ And thus, 0 Minym, is the story told
Of things that happened forty years agone ;
Nor of the Greeks has there been any one

To set the Theban’s bones ndthin a tomb,
Or to Aletes mete out his due doom ;
And yet indeed, it seemeth unto me

That rnany a man would go right willingly,
And ivin great thanks of men, and godlike fame,
If thereshould spring up some great pnnee of name
To lead them and I pray that such an one.
;
Before my head is laid beneath a stone,

Be sent unto us by the Gods above."
Therewith he ceased ; but all the hall did move,
As moves a grove of rustling poplar trees
Bowed all together by the shifting breeze,
And through the place the name of Jason ran.
Nor 'mid the feasters was there any man
But toward the hero’s gold-seat turned his ejês.
Meanwhile in Jason’s heart did thoughts arise.
That brought the treacherous blood into his cheek.
And he forgot his father old and weak,
Left ’twixt the fickle people of tlie land
And wily Pelias, while he clenched his hand.
As though it held a sword, about his cup.
Then, 'mid the murmuring, Pelias stood up
As vtmes, cic. Note the two-Irae simile. Epic poems usually con-
tain many much longer similes than this. Can you find any in
Jason ?
Trcachcrmis, lell-tale.
36 STORY POEMS FROM JIORRIS
And said :
“ O leaders of the Miny.x.
I hear ycname a name right dear to me
My brother’s son. who in the oaken wood
Has grown up nurtured of the Centaur good,
Nor in his eyes can I see any fear
Of or water, or the cle.aving cword.
fire,
" therefore, if ye take him for your lord
Now
Across the sea, then surely ye will get
Both fame and wealth, nor will men soon foiêt
To praise the noble city whence ye came,
Passing from age to age each hero’s name."
Then all stood up and shouted, and the king
\Mrile yet the hall with Jason’s name did ring
Set in his hands a gloaming cup of gold
And said “ O Jason, wilt thou well behold
:
These leaders of the people who are fain

To go \vith thee and suffer many a pain
And deadly may \\-in at last
fear, if they
Undying fame when fleeting life is past ?
And now, if thou art willing to be first
Of all these men, of whom
indeed the worst
Is like a God, poim out this gleaming wine
To him with whose light all the heavens shine.
Almighty Jove.”
Then Jason poured, and said :
“ O Jove, by thy hand may all these be led

To name and wealth ! and yet indeed, for me
Wfliat happy ending shall I ask from thee ?
Wfliat helpful friends ? what length of quiet years ?
Mflrat freedom from ill care and deadly fears ?
Do what thou ^vilt, but none tire less beheve
That these tilings and more tliou shouldst rcceivd.
all
If thou wert Jqson, I were Jove to-daJ^
“ And ye who now are hot to play
this play
If Is ‘his boastful ? The

Greeks caUed pride
hubns, greatest fault of all, leading to punish-
SSôUt
” occurs m Jason’s character, take
;
life and death of JASON

Seetog the fleece across an unknouTi sea,
oethink ye and misery,
3'et of deatli
^d dull despair, before ye arm to go
^ savage king and folk none know,
unence it may well hap none of ye to come
Again unto jôur little ones and home.
~ do thou, Pelias, ere we get us forth,
ênd heralds out, east, west, and south, and north.
And with them cunning men of golden speech,
thy tale unto the Grecian folk to teach,
t hat we ma}? lack for
neither strength nor wit,
hor man3' 3 brave man like a fool will sit
-
Lîde the council board and men there are

;
ise-hearted who know little feats of war
Nor would I be \vithout the strength of spears,
'"’ise words on dull and foolish ears.
we need a cunning artisan,
Also
taught by the Gods, and knowing more tlian man,
to build us a good ship upon this shore.
hold upon the oar.
And I, the ele\'enth, steer them toward the east,
t o seek the
hidden Fleece of that gold beast,
t swe^ to Jove
tliat only in my hand
the Fleece shall be, when I again take land
to see rny father’s hall, or the
green grass
flrey Thessalian horses pass,
now, 0 friends, forget all, till the mom
vv Ah other
thoughts and fears is duly bom ” !
and all men shouted ; and again

Tk
their cups, and many a draught did drain.
A
;DUt Pelias gazed with
heedful eyes at him,
Wor drank the wine tliat well-nigh touched the brim
Ut Ins gold cup and noting every word,
;
1 bought w'dl
that he should be a mighty lord,
Nor now' already like a king he spoke,
âzuig upon tlie wild tumultuous folk
Golden speech. Note the adjectival metaphor. Find other example:
you go along.
As one who knows wliat troubles arc to conic.
And in this world looks for no peaceful home
So much he dreaded what the Gods might do.
But /Eson, when he heard Pelias. knew
first
\Miat wile was and he sat a.foard,
stirring,
With sinking heart, as all the talc he heard ;
But after hearkening what his son did say.

He deemed a God spoke through him on that day,
And held his peace yet to himself he said
; :
“ And if he wins all, still shall I be dead

Ere on tlie shore he stands beside the Fleece,
The greatest and most honoured man in Greece.”
But Jason, much rejoicing in his life.
Drank and was meny', longing for the strife :
Though in his heart he did not fail to see

His uncle’s cunning wiles and treachery ;
But thought, when sixty years are gone at most,

Then will all pleasure and all pain be lost
Although my name, indeed, be cast about
From hall to temple, amid song and shout
So let mo now be merrj’ with the best.
jMeanwhile, all men spoke hotly of the quest.
And healths they drank to many an honoured man.
Until the moon sank, and the stars waxed wan,
And from the east faint yellow light outshone
O’er the Greek sea, so many years agone.
book III
How the next morn, when risen was the sim
Men ’gan to busk them for the quest begun
Who sMy years Remark the insistence on tiic’s snortness
stortness and
a
death’s finality, favourite ideas of
Morris
adverbial metaphor Ifyou find others, collect
the^°‘^
So i,mny years agoae. Note the tone of reirM J'the
sense again of the ineritable paî"^
other examples of this romantiESgg^tion?"-
Busk lhan, Busy themselves. ^
—
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 3<
Nor long delay made Pelias, being m fear
Lest aught should staj' them so his folk did bear
;
Aews of these things tliroughout the towns of
Greece,
i'lmnng great men to sc^k the Golden
Fleece.
well-skilled Argus the first man
ho tlirough the gates into lolchos passed,
W hose lot in fertile Egj'pt first was cast.
So he, being brought to Jason, said “ O king, :
We have the Gods sent here to do tlie thing

X® need the most for truly have I seen,
;
Hvixt sleep and waking, one clad hke a queen.

About whose head strange light shone glonously,
ytand at rny bed’s foot, and she said to me :
Argus, arise, when dawn is on the eartli.

And go unto a cit j' great of girth
lolchos, and there ask for one
\Vho now gets ready a great race to run
Upon a steed whose maker thou shalt be,
And whose course is the bitter tracldess sea
^® ^^ng's son, now himself a king.’
,,
Therewith she told me many a crafty tiling
n- tWs keel that ye are now lackmg,
Didding me take thee for my king and lord.
And thee to heed my counsel as her v ord
"S lor this tlung. So if ye would set forth
fieiore tlie winter takes us from the north,
o lot there be at my commands
ûch men as are most sldlful of their hands,
or spare to take lintel, roof-tree,
or post
Iash or pine or oak that helpeth most.
Gods. Note the inversion. Consider its use here and in

otlier instances
^£p and making. Note the antithesis. This one is uncolourcd ; find
Oftr instances of its more emphatic use.
like a queen, Juno
' shone gloriously. Remark the purposed vagueness of
ucscnption, to gam effect by appealing to our old associations,
^'hether this is 1571103! of the poem,
expression from Homer.
• h tiorizontal beam over door or vandow.
STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
From whoso in tliis city lackcth gold ;
And chiefly take tlie post that now dotli hold

The second rafter in tlie royal hall,
That I may make the good ship’s prow withal.
For soothly from Dodona dotli it come,
Tliough men forget it, the grey pigeons’ home.
“So look to see a marvel, and forthright
Set on tlie smitlis tlie sounding brass to smite.
For surely shall all ye your annour need
Before tliese flower-buds have turned to seed.”
Then Jason gave him thanks and gifts enow.
And tlirough the town sought all who chanced to
know
The woodwright’s craft, by whom was much begun.
Whilst he took gifts of wood from many an one,
And getting timber with great gifts of gold,
Spared not to take tlie great post used to hold
The second rafter in the roj'al hall
To make tlie new ship’s goodly prow withal.
So Argus laboured, and the work was sped,
jiloreover, by a man with hoary head
MTiose dwelling and whose name no man could know,
Who many a strange thing of tlie craft did show.
And, mid dieir work, men gazed at him askance.
Half fearful of his reverend piercing glance
’
But did his bidding ; yet knew not indeed

It was the Queen of Heaven, Saturn’s seed
(Iileanwhile from all the parts of Greece

came heroes to
the town, and amongst tliem were hlach-haired Theseus,
one day to day the monstoous Minotaur swift-running
;
Atalanta rvith sandalled feet set firm upon “ n
tlie sand,
very i^d, yet feanng not for aught " Mopsus,
; tlie nfse,
who knew of tlungs to come the mightj- brothers.
;
give oracular adi-ico in

c
Forihri^tt, Straightway (archaic).
Enou), Enough sped, speeded (archaisms)
Saium’s seed. Juno, daughter of Ops and
Saturn
^lamon and Peleus, whose sons were to be mightier than
™ey, even Ajax and Achilles Butes, fairest of all
men; ;
skilful pilot ; tlie dreadful Hercules, a lion's
leu Uung over his shoulders, and in his hand a club of
TOlmown wood bound round vdth brass his trvo squires,
;
r Ephebus the t\vins Castor and Pollux, sons

;
Leda Lynceus, the keen-eyed, who could

;
see through the dark Areas the hunter, of unmatched
;
speed Zetes and Calais, sons of the Northrvind. with
;
®Pi’i’i*g from anigh tlie head Asclepius, who knew ;
herbs Nestor tlie wise Laertes, father of

rvj ; ;
wdysseus ; and many another.)
!
_ of all, Orpheus the singer came,

.y?® King (Eager, great of fame.
of
Hither he came the Minj'ie to please.
And make them masters of the threatening seas,
Cheenng tlieir hearts, and making their hands strong
" \T ^ unlooked-for sweetness of his song.
_ Now was it eve by then that Orpheus came
Into the hall, and when the}? heard his name,
And toward the high-seat of the prince he drew,
men beholding him, the singer knew.
And glad they were, indeed, tliat he should be
their mate upon the bitter, tuneless sea.
they shouted ; but Prince Jason said
"XT
Now, may the Gods bring good things on thy head,
:
Son of OEager, but from me, indeed,

i.uis gold Dmdahan bowl shall be tli}' meed,
H thou wUt let us hear tin'’ voice take wing
hrom out thine heart, and see tlie golden string
Uuiver beneath thy fingers. But by me
hirst sit and feast, and happy mayst thou be.”
Thrace. Orpheus was the greatest poet of the

.Of
®8e of Greece.
D/rS; Tahe special note of thcsea-cpithcts in the poem.
Made by Do.'daUis, the clever craftsman wlio made vings
lor himself and Icarus his son
to flyover the /Egcan Sea. (Tlic
}vings were probabU’ ship’s sails, of whicli he was said to be the
inventor.) ,
•
.
:

Tlien, glad at heart, the hero took his place,
And ate and drank his fill, but when the space
Was cleared of flesh and bread, he took bis Ij'tc
And Sling them of the building up of Tjtc,
.And of the fair things stood up over sea.
Till there was none of them but fain would be
Set in the sliip, nor cared one man to stay
On the green earth for one more idle day.
But Jason, Icwking right and left on them.
Took his fair cloak, wrought with a golden hem,
And laid it upon Oqilieiis, and thereto
Added the promised bowl, that all men knev.'
No hand but tliat of Da:dalus had wrought.
So rich was, and fair beyond all thought.
it
Then did he say unto the Minya;

“ Fair friends and well-loved guests, no more shall ye
Feast in this hall until we come again,
Back to this land, well-guerdoned for our pain.
Bearing the Fleece, and m-ayhap many a thing
Such as this godlike guest erewhile did sing.
Scarlet, and gold, and brass but without fail
;
Bearing great fame, if aught that may avail

To men who die and our names certainly
;
Shall never perish, wheresoe’er we lie.

And now behold within the haven rides
Our good ship.'srvinging in tlie changing tides,
Gleaming with gold, and blue, and cinnabar.
The long new oars beside the rowlocks are
The sail hangs flapping in the light west wind,
Nor aught undone can any craftsman find
tyw. Ancient instniraent like aharp but smaU, with strincs stretched
between two cuia-cd horns. It was held
n.iuu. and
ip in thcleU hand,
strummed as accompaniment to the voice
Cinnabar, A vermilion pigment.

;

From stem to stern ; so is our quest begun
lo-morrow at the rising of the sun.
And may Jove bring us all safe back to see
pother sun shine on tliis fair city,
Wên elders and the flower-crowned maidens meet
v\ dh tears and
singing oim returning feet.”
So he spake, and so mighty was the shout,
i hat the hall shook,
and shepherd-folk without
Ihe well-walled city heard it, as they went
Unto the fold across the tliymy bent.
BOOK IV
through the town few eyes were sealed by sleep
V\ hen the sun rose
yea, and the upland sheep
;
ftlust guard themselves,
for that one mom at least.
Against the wolf ; and warj'- doves may feast
Unscared that morning on the npening com.
A or did the whetstone touch the scythe that mom
And aU unheeded did the mackerel shoal
Make green the blue waves, or the porpoise roll
U^JOugh changing hills and valleys of tlie sea.
For 'twixt the thronging people solemnly
the heroes went afoot along tlie way
That led unto the haven of the ba}''.
And as they went tlie roses rained on them
hrom ivindows glorious with the weU-wrought hem
Uf many a purple clotli and all tlieir spears
;
Were twined vdth flowers that the fair earth bears ;
And round their ladies' tokens were there set
^VcU-vialUd. Note the frequent use of compound words in this
poem, and how they assist compression.
J tiyiiiy bent,
Grass with patches of flijune.
<jncep, doves, etc.
Notice this clever use of outside local circum-
stances to lend reality to the main incident. The pleasing
images, too, impart their own tapestry effects. Collect further
instances.
J-okens. An.anachromsm. They were favours i\om by
not Greek, knights as signs of devotion to a lady.
44 STORY POEMS FROM J.IORR1S
About their helmets, flower^' wreaths, still wet
With beaded dew of tlie scarce vanished night.
So as they passed, the young men at tlie sight _
Sliouted for joy, and their hearts swelled with pndc ,
But scarce the ciders could behold diy-cyed

The glorious show, remembenng wi 11 the days
When they were able too to win the m praise,
And was hope of days to come.
in their hearts
But on they went, and as the way they trod,
His swelling heart nigh made each man a god ;
While clashed their armour to the minstrelsy
That went before them to the doubtful sea.
And now, the streets being passed, the}’ reached the
bay,
Where by the well-built quay long Argo lay,
Glorious with gold, and shining m
the sun.
Then first they shouted, and each man begun
Against his shield to strike his brazen spear ;
And as along the quays they drew ancar.

Faster they strode and faster, till a cry
Again burst from tliem, and nght eagerly
Into swift running did they break at last,
TiU all the wind-swept quay being overpast.
They pressed across the gangway, and filled up
The hollow ship as wine a golden cup.
But Jason, standing by tire helmsman's side
High on the poop, lift up his voice and cried :
Look landward, heroes, once, before ye slip

The tough well-tuisted hawser from the ship.
And set your eager hands to rope or oar ;
For now, behold, the king stands on the shore
Beside a new-built altar, while the priests '
Lead up a hecatomb of sjiotless beasts

White bulls and coal-black horses, and my sire
Dotibiful^ Treacherous.
Hecatomb, Great public sac^fice of a hundred animnk
Spotless, —
Of one colour all over white
black for the infernal gods.
r\t •r.n
Olympian,
;
life and death of JASON 45

the barle}’-cake above tlie fire ;
in his hand a cup of rudd\’' gold
King Pelias takes and now ma}'’ yc behold
;
sun light up tlie God,

vin
Who, holding in his hand the crj'stal rod
that rules the sea, stands by Dxdalian art
Above liis temple, set right far apart
hrom other houses, nigh the deep green sea.
And now, O fellows, from no man but me
these gifts come to the God, that, ere long 3'ears
Have drowned our laughter and dried up our tears,
n e may behold that glimmering brazen God
Against the sun bear up liis crystal rod
Once more, and once more cast upon this land
tJus cable, severed b}' mj'' bloodless brand.”
So spake he, and raised up the glittering steel,
that fell, and seaward straight did Argo reel,
“Ce, and smitten by the western breeze,
îsed herself against the ridg}' seas,
cl-11 ,
eyes turned toward tlie Colchian land,
btm heedful of wise Tiphj's’ skilful hand.
But silent sat the heroes bj' the oar.
Hearkening the sounds borne from tlie lessening
shore
the lowdng of the doomed and flower-crowned beasts,
t he plaintive singing of the ancient priests,
^ngled with blare of trumpets, and the sound
man}' folk that stood around
Tn
the altar and the temple by the sea.
00 sat thc}' pondering much and silentlj',
t lU aU the
landward noises died away.
And, midmost now of tlie green sunny baj'.
ôrley-caKCf Meal oflenner, part sprinkled over the \actim, the rest
_
i/tc
over the fire.
God, Neptune in Greek, Poseidon. There were huge bronze
;
Statues to him in many Iiarbour-tou’ns. Tlie crystal rod is his
'Pj c
with whicli he lashes the sea into storms
sounds. Remarlv hoiv sensitive Morris is to sounds of all hinds,
3nd to silence.
POEIÎS FROM
MORRIS
story of the seas
, 1 Tio sound but washing
breeze,
They •.
following western
And pip»ig --- the oars
ucaciiifc, of
XVLIV.
®^.!Jsured beating
~ .r^pnsurcu ;
And hea^ y in
hea\ Thessalian shores.
‘
So left Joyful of the sacrifice

price
n %ea
-e. nnd all the gifts of
Beside the .
^ct t?u‘in wind .^t
at will.
That
'IJiar each changing
r„o dimbed eacii
cnangiug hill.
u*ii
S ®\rco
And swiftly ough „fjo(T valleys of the
rippling
• sea ;
And [he hcrok

unmelodiously,
Bor oat great (Eager s son.
For by
Bor lot his fingers
fin nin
tn harp-strings
Vi.e haiT-strings
H
And (hrou Ji
i
^ ;
Bigh soundle^.
Nigh sound sn^,le^
Bdt
And Ins ^crSLd voice brake into such
a song
âger ship along.
^ bitter sea,
tumultuo^ sea,
an iU is wrought
by thee !—
S^Nherefore, tiiou bitter sea, O
,..^.^^1011" words we pray to thee,
yvith no 1 o before
Bnl^^Jioês’of the long ashen oar ?
Such sxiv-^-^--y^t
sri'j’
t seen such a prow
and niggard waters plou^

aiid mggaiu
.
— :;idi
^hvSh O sea, shalt thou be cursed,
i vct.Osea.sha
dhyi‘ .,
V Uands we gain the worst.

*
If nt 'Î'ôt inwater, roU about

And, wi n urdieeding song or shout,
Blind-cy far from shore,
’
Witlnn sunlight any more.

''^‘??i!orc£ore. indeed, we joy in thee,
*
thy greatness, and will we
And P’toiv hands both good and ill.
Take thou wit, and praise thee still.
.
Yea, w'n^ gft at home.

Enduring ^j^til the last days come.
And W® Note the change to tetrameter from the regular
“ o {nWr di® poe™-
mctl^ of
;

When we no more may care to hold
^^^lite bosoms under crowms of gold,
And our dulled hearts no longer arc
Stirred by the clangorous noise of war,
And hope uithm our souls is dead.
And no joy is remembered
" So, if thou
hast a mind to slay.
Fair prize thou hast of us to-day
;
And if thou hast a mind to save.
Great praise and honour shalt thou have :
But whatso thou wUt do with us.

Our end shall not be piteous.
Because our memories shall live
^jjên folk forget the way to drive
pie black keel through the heaped-up sea.
And half dried up thy waters be.”
Then shouted all the heroes, and they drove
good ship forth, so that the birds above.
With long white wngs, scarce flew so fast as they.
And so they laboured well-nigh all the day,
And ever in their ears divine words rung,
Bor midmost of them still the Thracian sung
btones of Gods and men and when the sun
;
Ip fall adown the heavens had begun,
iney trimmed the sails, and drew the long oars up.
And, ha^dng poured wine from a golden cup
fmto the Gods, gladdened their hearts with food ;
then, having feasted as they thought it good,
ât hands upon the oars again, and so
ppd on, until tlie broad sun, growing low,
;Keddened the green sea ; then they held their hands
should come again from unknown lands.
And fell to meat again, and sat so long
Jjwer the wine-cups, cheered with tale and song,
Ihp night feU on them, and the moon rose high,
^d the fair western ivmd began to die,
plough stfll they drifted slowly towards the east
then with sweet sleep the others crowned their feast.
48 STORV POEMS PROM MORRIS
t; nil vs ^nd the leader o£ the rest,
r> .1
to the
Ww\^tchcd till drew the rorind moon
.
beneath her light,

And Jason could behold
at first, a little speck of white,
off
die sea.
\\diich, asthe grey dawn stole across
the wind freshened,
grew at last to Iw
And they nighcr dre
Crev rocks and great, and when
helmsman past all doubting knew
skilful
Tlic^
land of Lemnos therefore ;
from their sleep
them to keep
They roused their fellows, bidding shore.
good ship from tliat ernl rocky
The
unto the oar.
So each man set his hand
And, striking sail, along the coast they crept,
biros no lonjjer slept
tlic suTi rose, tind
,
Until a fresh land-wind began to rise.

Tlicn did tlicy set sail,
and goodly \\Tse m
Draw off from Lemnos, and at close of day
before them a new country' lay,
Again
Wiich when they neared, the helmsman Tipnys
knew , , .
To be the Mysian land ; bemg come thereto,

Tliey saw a grassy' shore
and trees enow,
Andâ sweet stream that from the land did flow
:
tliey drought it good to land thereon

Therefore
And get them water ; but the day being gone,
Tliey anchored till the daivn, anigh the beach
Tin tlie sea’s rim the golden sun did reach.
But when the day dau'ned, most men left die ship.
Some hasting the glazed water-jars to dip
In die fresh water ; others among these
Mdio had good ii'iU beneath the murmuring trees
To sit awhile, forgetful of the sea.
And wth the seafarers there landed three
Amongst the best ; Alcmena’s godlike son.
Lemnos, the north of the iEgean Sea.
An island in
Mysian Mysia, a country in Asia Minor, bordered by the
pardanelles,
Alanena*s godlike son, Hercules.
Hylas the fair, and that half-halting one.
Great Polyphemus. Now both Hercules
And all the others lay beneath the trees,
”ên all the jars were filled, nor wandered far ;
But Hylas, governed by some wayward star.
Strayed from them, and up stream he set his face.
And came into a tangled woody place.
From whence the stream came, and witliin that wood
ông its bank wandered in heedless mood,
Nor knew it haunted of the sea-nymphs fair ;
^Tiom on that mom the heroes’ noise did scare

From their abiding-place anigh the bay ;
But Ihese now hidden in the water lay
Within the wood, and thence could they behold
The fair-limbed Hylas, with his hair of gold.
And mighty arms down-swinging carelessly,
^d fresh face, ruddy from the wind-swept sea ;
,ên straight they loved him, and being fain to have

His shapely body in the glassy wave,
^d taking counsel there, they thought it good
Ifiat one should meet him in the darksome wood.
And by her wiles should draw him to some place
Where they his helpless body might embrace.
Meanwhile the ship being watered, and the day

Now growing late, the prince would fain away ;
bo from the ship was blown a hom to call
f he stragglers
back, who mustered one and all,
TFeban Hylas therefore, when they knew
Th^
1 hat he was
;
missing, Hercules withdrew

hrom out the throng, if yet perchance his voice
Hylas might hear, and all their hearts rejoice
uîth his weU-loiown shout in reply thereto ;
“ ith him
must Polyphemus likewise go.
/
^ t>oautiM youth, attendant upon Hercules. . ,

Not the one-eyed monster, but the brother-in-law oi
Hercules. He vtos killed in Mysia.
( 2 , 803 ) 4
50 STORY POEMS FROM JIORRIS
•r« out tlie wse counsel of the Fates .
UnlmTO°
S IdiUe-wallcd
"»
fair Laris<=a.
r
or the plain
thought it good
The others reached the ship, and shore,
the anchor, and anigh the
To weigh ready oar.
With loosened sail and run-out,
bay
To trim the ship for leaidug the
fair ;
that day,
And tlierefore. Juno, waiting for store of wind
And for that hour, had gaUicred mind,
all her
Up to the hills to work out now let slip.
Mdiich from the Mysian mountains
Tearing along the low shore, smote
the ship
In blinding clouds of salt spray
mixed wath rain.
Then vainly they struck sail, and all in vain
The rowers strove to keep her head to wind. blind.
And still they drifted seaward, drenched andshone
But, 'mid their struggling, suddenly there
prow, and thereon
A light from Argo’s highfearful
Could their astonished eyes behold
A figure standing, with ivide wings of gold.
Upright, amid the iveltering of the sea.
Calm 'midst the noise and cries, and presently
To all their ears a voice pierced, saying “No more, :
O Jove-blessed heroes, strive to reach the shore.

Nor seek your lost companions ; for of these
Jove gives you not the mighty Hercules
To help you forward on your happy ivay.
But wills him in the Greek land still to stay ;
Where many a thing he has for him to do.
With whom awhile shall Polyphemus go.
Then build in Mysia a fair merchant-town.
Unhappy ! An example of apostrophe.
iMrissa,^ important town on the Peneus, in. Thessaly.
Afgo*s high prow. Made of wood from Dodona, and so oraculai'-
Weliîng, Rolling.
A fair mcrcltant-iotvit, Cius, on the Propontis.
; :
XIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 51

^d when long years have passed, there lay him down
And as for Hylas, never think to see
His body more, who yet lies happily
Heneath the green stream ye were this mom,
^d there he praises Jove where
that ho was bom,
orgetting the rough \vorld, and every care ;
Aor living, among faces fair,
" {j^te limbs, and wonders of tlie watery world.
^ spread the sail ye furled.
A
And make on towards the straits while Juno sends
vair wind behind you, calling
you her friends."
thereivith the voice ceased, and the storm was still.
And afterward they had good wind at vdll,
to help them toward the straits, but all the rest,
tejoicing at the speeding of their quest,
êt wondered much whence that strange figure came,
mat on tlie prow burnt like a harmless flame ;
^ca, some must go and touch the empty space
i^roni whence those words flew from the godlilce face
^t Jason and the builder, Argus, knew
Whereby the prow foretold things strange and new,
Hor wondered aught, but thanked the Gods therefore.
As far astern they left the Mysian shore.
BOOK V
Now, driven by the oar, and feeling well
ne Wind that made the fair wliite sail outswell,
-r,^® 3lian Argo flew on toward the place
iiere first the
mde folks saw dead Helle's face :
of the darkness of the night,

ithout the rocks they anchored till the light.
And when the day broke, sped tliem tiirougli the
straits
STORV POEMS FROM MORRIS
the narrow gates
With oars alone, and through
where wth oar
Came out into Propontis, sight of shore,
together, \\-iihni
And saU
Tlicv went, until the
sun was falling down, ^
of a tou n,
And then they saw the while walls anigli,
made thereto, and being come
And
^^[êv found that
on an i^lc the place did he.
And Tiphys called it Cyzicum. a place
Built by a goodly man of
a great race.
Himself called Cyzicus, Euzorus’ son,
Wdio still in peace ruled over many
an one,
Merchants and other, in that city fair.
there.
Therefore, they thought it good to enter
departed
(King Cyzicus made them gifts, and they at mg
him but. driven blindly by a storm. Argo
from :
coast tmhno
stood to within a shallow bay on a
Assailed at break of day by an armed force.
rtmV
ôd it. and Jason slew the enemy leader.
broad davlight the slam man proved none other than
c.
Cyzicus.' Both sides had erred. After solemn funer

rites, the Argonauts drew off from that unlucky shore.)
How eastward with a fair wind as they went,

And towards the opening of the ill sea bent
Their daruig course, Tiphys arose and said :
“ Heroes, it seems to me that hardiliead

Helps mortal men but little, if thereto
They join not wasdom now needs must we go
;
Into the evil sea tlirough blue rocks twain,

Ho keel hath ever passed, although in vain
Some rash men trying it of old have been
Pounded therein, as poisonous herbs and green
Are pounded by some witch-wife on the shore
—
Of Pontus for these two rocks evermore
Each against each are driven, and leave not
Propontis, Sea of Marmora.
Cyoicum, On the south shore of the Propontis.
£t,ii sea. Black Sea, or Euxine, or Pontus. At the entrance stood
the fahled Symidegades, or clashing rock-isiets
;

Across the whole strait such a little spot
Safe from the grinding of their mighty blows,
^ that tlirough which a well-aimed arrow goes

nhen archers for a match shoot at the nng.
“ Now, heroes,
do I mind me of a king
ât dwelleth at a seaside town of Thrace
plat men call Salmydessa, from this place
A short day’s sail, who hidden things can tell
J^yond all men ; wherefore. I think it well
piat we for counsel should now turn thereto,
Lor headlong to our own destruction go ”
Then aU men said that these his words were good.
And turning, towards the Thracian coast they stood,
ndiich yet they reached not till the moonlit night
Was come, and from the shore the wind blew light
pien ftey lay to until the dawn, and then
Creeping along, found an abode of men
Hiat Tiphys Imew to be the place they sought.
Hiereat they shouted.'and right quickly brought
Fair Argo to the landing-place, and threw
Grapnels ashore, and landing forthunth drew
Unto the toum, seeking Phineus the king.
But those they met and asked about this thing
Grew pale at naming him, and few words said ; -
-Latheless, they being unto the palace led.
And their names told, soon were they bidden in
To where the king sat, a man blind and tliin.
And haggard beyond measure, who straightway
Ijêd out aloud " Now blessed be the way
:
T^t led thee to me, happiest of all

^'dio from the poop see the prow rise and fall
pid the sail bellying, and the glittering oars ;
And blessed be tlie day whereon our shores
Sclmydessa, A toivn on the western shore of the Black Sea Jloms

astray here in liis geograpTiy; for to reach Salinydessa the
Argonauts would have had to pass the Symplegades ^lie must
7,,
have thought Salmydessa was
âiheless, Nevertheless.
m an arm of the Propontis.
54
First IdUhv footsteps, since across the sea
revenue tlvm bnng st ^\lth
•
Mv hope and my men call

“ llail. Phmeus. that
'nlen Jason slid :
Widest of men, and may all good befall

thou in e ,
To thee and thine, and happy mayst
we rather pray thee gifts to give.
Yet do
sooihly, we
Tlian bring thee any gift‘d, for,
Sail desperate men and poor,
across the sea.
TlSnswered Phineils “ Guest. 1 know indeed
:
What gift it is tliat on this day ye need,

WTiich I wU
not withhold and yet, I pray,
;
Tliat ye will eat and drink with

me to-day.
Then shall ye sec how wise a man am I,
And how well-skilled to ’scape from miseri’.” bring .
Therewith he groaned, and bade his folk to

Such feast as ’longed unto a mighty king.
And spread tlie board therewitli ;
who straigm-
obeyed.
Trembling and pale, and on the tables laid
A royal feast most glorious in show.
Then said the king " I give you now to know
:
That the Gods love me not, O guests therefore, ;
Lest your expected feast be troubled sore.

Feast by y'ourselves alone while I sit here
Looking for that which scarcely brings me fear
This day, since I so long have suffered it.”
So, w'ondeiing at his words, thej' aU did sit
At tliat rich board, and ate and drank their fill
,'
But yet with little mirth indeed, for still

Within their ears the king’s w’ords harshlj' rang.
And his blind eyes, made restless by some pang,
Thej' on them, though no word he said.
still felt
At last he called out ; “ Though ye be full fed.
Sit still at table and behold me eat.
Then ye shall witness with wiiat royal meat
The Gods are pleased to feed me, since I know
Soofhfy, Truly.
ilFE AND DEATH OF JASON 55
As much as they do both of things below
And things above.”
Then, hearkening to tliis word,
the most of them grew doubtful and afeard
Of what should come but now imto the board
;
the king was led, and nigh his hand his sword,
two-edged and ivorj'-hilted, did they lay.
And set tiie richest dish of sdl that
day
êfore him, and a wine-crowmed golden cup.
And a pale, trembling servant lifted up
the cover from the dish then did the}^ hear
;
A Wondrous ratthng sound that diew anear,
increasing quickly then the gilded haU
;
Orav dark at noon, as though the night did fall.

And open were aU doors and windows burst,
And such dim light gleamed out as liglits the cursed
Onto the torments behind Minos’ throne :
|t.nn, êen, and doubtful thiough the hall it shone,

lighting up shapes no man had seen, before
tMy fell, awhile ago, upon that shore.
indeed, the trembling Minyce
R
;oeheld the daughters of the earth and sea,
the dreadful Snatchers, who like women were
Oown to the breast, with scanty coarse black hair
About their heads, and dim eyes ringed with red.
And bestial mouths set round witli lips of lead,
gnarled necks there began to spring
Htnlf hair, their
half feathers, and a sweeping -wing
wew out instead of arm on either side.
And thick plumes undemeatli the breast did hide
f he place
where joined the fearful natures twain.
leathered were they else, with many a stain
"^ôod thereon, and on birds’ claws they went.
These through the hall unlieard-of shrieking sent.
And rushed at Pliineus, just as to his moutli
raised the golden cup to quencli Iiis droutli,
Minos, A judge m the infernal regions.

Snatchers, The Harpies
Anfl <«^ttcred the red wine, and Iniffctcd
The C^Tctched king, and one kings come down

laughed as the huncs laugh, when
within the fiery town.
To lead new lives now
And said ; “ O Phineus, thou art lucky to Know
The hidden tilings of heaven and heU
llicn did she dm
Eat, happy man, and dnnk.
From off tlie dish a gobbet with her claw.strove
And held it nigh his mouth, the while he
To free his arm, that one hovering above,tight,
Within her filtliy vulture-claws clutched
And cried out at him ; “ Truly, in dark night
Thou scest, Pliincus, as the leopard doth.” .
m
Then cried the third ; ” Fool, who would fain
both .
ejes
Delight and knowledge ! therefore, with bhnd
Clothe thee in purple, wrought with braveries.
And set the pink-veined marble 'ncath thy throne
Then on its golden cushions sit alone, , .
Hearkening thy chain-galled slaves without singing

For ioy, that they behold so many a thing.”
Then shrieked the first one in a dreadful voice :
“ And I, O Phineus, bid thee to rejoice.

That ’midst thy knowledge still thou know’st not this,
’
AWiose flesh the bps, wherewith thy lips I kiss,
This mom have fed on.” Then she laughed again.
And fawming on him, with her sisters twain
Spread her wide \vings, and hid liim from the sight.
And mixed his groans with screams of shrill delight.
How trembling sat the seafarers, nor dared
To use tire weapons from their sheaths half-bared.
Fearing the Gods, who there before tJieir eyes
Had shown them with what shame and miseries
Furies, The avenginB deities, three hideous winced maidens, who
pursued their prey to rum.
O Phiucus,
etc. The speech is ironical. Notice other examples.
Gobbet, Alump of flesh.
Fool, uiho would fain. The speech is sarcastic.
Note.. how
uv... it
. difleS
from the first two.
They impious men yet from the board
visit :
êre started two vdth shield and ready sword,

Northwind’s offspring, since, upon that day
Their father -wrought mthin them m
such way
They had no fear but now, when Phmeus knew,
:
By his dmne art, that the godhke t\vo

Were armed to help him, then from ’tuaxt the uangs
He cried aloud : " O heroes, more than kings.
Strike, and fear not, but set me free to-daj^
ât ye within your brazen chests may lay
ê best of aU my treasure-house dotli hold.
Fair linen, scarlet cloth, and well-uTought gold ” •
Then slirieked the Snatchers, knowmg certainly

Ihat now the time had come when thej' must fly
From pleasant Sahnydessa, casting off
The joys the}^ had m shameful mock and scoff.
So gat they from the bhnd king, leaving him
Pale and forewearied in his ever}' limb ,
And, flying through the roof, the}' set them dowm

Above tlie hall-doors, 'mid tlie timbers browm,
shattering %vitli fuiy. Then the fair-dyed wings
Opened upon the shoulders of the kings.
And on their heels, and shouting they uprose,
poised tliemselves in air to meet their foes.
Then here and there those loathly tlungs did fly
Hefore the brazen shields, and sw’ords raised high,
as they flew unlucky w'ords they cned.
The first said “ Hail, O folk wflio wander wide.
:
Seeking a foolSh tiling across the sea,

Feeding in what case 5'our houses be,
'vfliere now perchance
the rovers cast the brand
Up to Uie roof, and leading bj' the hand
Hie fair-limbed women wath their fettered feet
Pass down the sands, their hollow ship to meet.
Impfous men. to
hineus had been blmded by Jove for revealing
Hs kno-nledge of the future ,
offspnngf Zetes and Calaibi lô of tlic Argonauts.
Vcr>' \\ caned, tired out.
-«««, Ofolk, Tms speecli is mere bluff
him who wrcls the sorceress,’
" Fair hap to
The second cried, and may tlic just Gods
" bless
The slayer of his kindred and his name.”

" Luck to the toilsome seeker after farnc.
The tliird one from tlie open hall-door cried, ’
" Fare ye well. Jason, still unsatisfied,
Still scekinf; for a Ix'ttiT thiiiR than best,
A fairer thing than fairi'St, witJiout rest
Good speed, O traitor, v.ho shall think to wed
Soft limbs and white, and find thy royal bed
Dripping with blood, and burning up with fire ;
Good hap to him who henceforth ne’er shall tire
In seeking good that ever flies his hand”
Till he lies buried in an alien land !
So screamed the monstrous fowl, but now the

Sprung from the Northwind’s loins to be tlicir bane.
Drew nigh unto them then, with huddled wings
;
Forth from the hall they gat, but evil tiling

In flying they gave forth with weakened voice,
Sajdng unto them “ O ye men, rejoice.
:
Whose bodies worms shall feed on soon or late.

Blind slaves, and foolish of unsparing fate.
Seeking for that which ye can never get,
Whilst life and death ahke ye do forget
In needless strife, until on some sure da}’.
Death takes your scarcely tasted Ufe away.”
Quivering their voices ceased as on they, flew
Before the swift wings of the godlike two
Far over land and sea, until tlicy were
Anigh the isles called Strophades, and there.
Fair hap io him. To Jason.
sail seekiug, etc. This TOuplet in some sort explains the whole poem,
and gives Uie poet’s conception of a hero. ‘,
Qi.iccrmg, etc the length of this sentence. Remark otbci

very lot^ or very short ones.
Strophades, Two islets oS the western coast of the Pelotionnesus
SSi^d haS4“
" ‘-"-e-point. because S tS^tnh
;

With tired wdngs all voiceless did they light,
TrembUng to see anigh tlie armour bnght
The wind-bom brothers bore, but as these drew
Their gleaming swords and to the monsters flew.
From out tlie deep rose up a black-haired man,
^Tio, standing on the white-topped waves that ran
On towards the shore, cried “ Heroes, turn again.
:
For on this islet shall ye land in vain ;
But wthout sorrow leave the chase of these

Who henceforth 'mid the rocky Strophades
ShaU dwell for ever, servants unto me,
prking my therefore rejoice that ye^^
•
in gifts and honour

for your deed to-day.”
Then, even as he spoke, they saw but grey
White-headed waves rolling where he had stood.
Whereat they sheathed their swords, and through
their blood
A tremor ran, for now they knew that he
Was Neptune, shaker of the earth and sea ,
Yyjfrcfore they Jumed them back unto the hall

Where yet tlie others were, and ere nightfall
Came back to Salmydessa and the king,
And lighting down they told him of the thing.
mio, hearing them, straight hfted up his voice,
And 'midst the shouts cried " Heroes, now rejoice
:
With me who am delivered on this day

brom that which took all hope and joy away
therefore to feast again, until the sun
Another glad day for us has begun,
then, indeed, if j'ê must tr3'^ the sea,
With gifts and counsel shall ye go from me,
ûch as the Gods have given me to give,
And happy lives and glorious may ye live.”
Then did thej"^ fall to banqueting again,
t'orgetting all forebodings and all pam.
morris
story poems from
book VI
they get them gone,

v.m on the morrow did many a precious stone,
rifted with gold and
bale of scarlet cloth and spice,
many a
robes of pnee.
.
and goodly
And^ms wcU wrought,
wind-bom brothers strong
^nt cWcflV to tlic
nid past telling on that morn belong.
rifts
upon the windy quay,
Row as they stood upon the ropes to lay.
TJeadv tlteir liands
was there.
Wineus. who 'midst his mighty lords
Set high above them in a royal chair.
“ ^ SiR have of me to-day
Said ;
Witli'in your treasuries at home to lay,
If <50 it be that through hard things and pain
Yc come to the horse-nurturing land again ;
Ratheless, one more gift shall ye have of me,
For lacking tliat, beneath the greedy sea.
The mighty tomb of mariners and kings.
Doubt not to lay dou-n these desired things,
Ror think to come to Thessaly at aU.”
turning, he began to call
And tlierewith
Unto his f olk to bring what they had there.
Then one brought forward a cage great and fair.
Wherein they saw a grey pink-footed dove.
Then said tlie king “ The verj' Gods above
:
Can scantly help you more than now I do ;
For listen as upon this day ye go

;
Unto the narrow ending of the sea.

Anigh the clashing rocks lie patiently,
And let the keenest-eyed among j'ou stand
'Upon the prow, and let loose from his hand
This dove, w’ho from my mouth to-day has heard
So many a mystic and compelling word.
Horse-nurturing land^ Thessaly,
; ;
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 6i

He cannot choose, being loosed, but fl}^ do\TO straight
Unto the opening of that dreadful gate ;
^ let the keen-eyed watch, and if so be

He come out safe into the Evil Sea,
Then bend unto the oars, nor fear at aU
Of aught that from the Clashers may befall
But if he pensh, then turn back again.
And know the Gods have made your passage vain.
“ O king,"
said Jason, “ know that on this day
I \yill not be forsworn, but by some way
Will reach the oak-grove and the Golden Fleece,
Or, failing, die at least far off from Greece,
hot Unremembered yet great thanks we give
;
Tor this thy gift and counsel, and \\ ill strive
To come to Colchis through the unknown land ;
And whatso perils wait us, if Jove's hand
Be heavy on us, and the great blue gates
Are shut against us by the unmoved fates,
Farewell, O king, and henceforth, free from ill,^
Live happy as thou mayst, and honoured stiU
Then turned he shouting to the Minyie,
Who o’er the gangways rushed tumultuously,
^d from the land great Argo straightwaj^ thrust.
And gat them to their work, hot with the lust
Of fame and noble deeds and happj^ prize.
But the bird Lynccus took, unto whose eyes
The night was as the day, and fire as air.
Then back into his marble palace fair

Lhe king turned, thinking well upon the wa}'
Of what had happed since mom of 5'esterday.
Now from the port passed Argo, and the wind
Being fair for sailing, quickly left behind
Lair Salm 'dessa, the kind gainful place
5
^d so, rvith sail and oar, in no long space
t hey reached the narrow ending of the sea.
Forsworn, Guilty of false statement.

G2 story poems from morris
gustily
Wlicre the wind shifted, blowing
sail
From side to side, so that their flapping
in the turmoil could avail
But little ;
And now at last did they begin to hear

The pounding of the rocks ; but nothing ot spraj
They saw them ; for the steaming clouds
Cast by the meeting hammers evciy- \yay.
Quite hid the polished bases from their sight
Unless perchance the eyes of Ejmeeus might
shine
Tust now and then behold the deep blue
Betwixt the scattering of the silver brine pass
:
But sometimes 'twixt the clouds the sun would

And show tlie high rocks glittering like glass,
Quivering, as far beneath the chumed-up waves
Were ground together the strong arched caves,
\Nflicrein none dwelt, no, not the giant’s brood,
\Vho fed the green sea with his lustful blood ;
Nor were sea-devils even nurtured there ;
Nor dared the sea-worm use them for its lair.

And now the Minya:, as they drew ancar,
Had been at point to turn about for fear,
Bach man beholding his pale fellow’s face,
Wliose speech was silenced in that dreadful place
By the increasing clamour of tlie sea
And adamantine rocks then verily ;
Was Juno good at heed, who set strange fire

In Jason’s heart, and measureless desire
To be the first of men, and made his voice
Clear as that herald’s, whose sweet words rejoice
The Gods within the flowery fields of heaven.
And gave his well-knit arm the strength of seven.
So then, above the crash and thundering.
JJctwM the scatlering, etc. Notice how thin vowels arc used to cain a
silvery eilect ; also in “ gUttenne like glass.” Contrast, above.
‘ The pounding of the rocKs,'
««"G"vS\?ra?d=^ Wood of
'l‘â,nu„tinc. Steely-hard.
;

The Minys heard calm voice, crying
his shrill :
Shall this be tlien an ending to our quest ?

And shall we find the worst, who sought the best ?
Far better had ye sat beside your wives,
^d ’mid the wine-cups lingered out 5'our lives,
jêaming of noble deeds, though trying none,
ân as vain boasters with your deed undone.
Come back to Greece, tiiat men maj'’ sing of you.
Are ye all shameless then ? Ho L3mceus stand
!
'
ôn the prow, and let slip from your hand

wise king's bird and all ye note, the wind
E stead}'' now, and blowang from behind
;
Drives us on toward the dashers, and I hold

Che helm m}'self therefore, lest we be rolled
;
Broadside against these horrors, take the oar,
:^d hang here, half a furlong from the shore,
of fear, until at least we know
If through these gates tlie Gods will let us go :
^d if so be they will not, yet will we

:“Ot empty-handed come to Thessaly,
through this unknown land.
Whose aims reach out to us on either hand."
Then they for shame began to cast off fear,

j^d, handhng well the oars, kept Argo near
changing little-lighted spray-washed space,
^'hereuntoL3'nceus set his eager face,
^d loosed the dove, who down the west wind flew
then all the others lost her dashing through
the clouds of spray, but L5mceus noted how
reached the open space, just as a blow
Had spent itself, and still the hollow sound
Dt the last clash was booming all around ;
And eagerly he noted how the dove
otopped ’mazed, and hovered for a while above
island on the river Phasis, rvhich enters the east side of

ihe Black Sea, Jason suggests as a last resort an overland
journey to it.
then stooping darted through.
Tnie troubled sea, drew
together
the blue gleaming rocks
,
At;
joyous shout
Then settee he breathed, until a
out
He cave, as he beheld her passing the sea,
Unscathed, above the surface of
wniilc back again the rocks
drew sluggishly. ...
oars whirled, and straig
Tlicn back their poised
they drave
cave
Unto the opening of the spray-arched ,
But Jason’s eyes alone of all the crew'

Beheld the sunny sea and cloudless blue.
Still narrowing, but bright from rock to rock.
thundering
Now as they neared, came the next
That deafened all, and with an icy cloud

Hid man from man but Jason, shouting loud,tight
; _
Still clutched the

tiller and the oars, grasped
;
By mighty hands, drave on the ship forthright

Unto die rocks, until with blinded eyes
They blinked one moment at those mysteries
Unseen before, the next they felt the sun
Fidl on their backs, and knew their deed W'as done.
Then on their oars they lay, and Jason turned.
And how Iris burned
o’er the rocks beheld
In and harmless many-coloured flame,
fair
And he beheld the way by which they came
Wide open, changeless, of its spray-clouds cleared :
And though in his bewildered ears he heard

The tumult yet, that all was stilled he knew,
Vîle in and out the unused sea-fow’l flew
Betwixt them, and the now subsiding sea
Lapped round about their dark feet quietly.
So, turning to the Minya;, he cried ;
“ See ye, O fellows, the gates opened wide.

And chained fast by the Gods, nor think to miss
The very end we seek, or W'eU-eamed bliss.”
Iris,Goddess of the rainbow, and so messenger of the gods
Unused, Unaccustomed.
WTio rose rejoicing, and poured many a cup
Of red wine to the Gods, and hoisting up
The weather-beaten sail, mth mirtli and song,
Ha\dng good wind at rvill, then sped along.
Three days with good hap and fair wind they went,
That ever at their backs Queen Juno sent.
But on the fourth da}', about noon, they drew
Unto a new-built city no man knew ;
No, not the pilot so they thought it good

;
To arm themselves, and thus in doubtful mood
Brought Argo to the port, and being come nigh,
A clear-voiced herald from the land did cry :
“ Whoso
ye be, if that 5'e come in peace,
King Lycus bids you hail, but if from Greece
,Ye come, and are the folk of whom we hear
Yô make for Colchis free from any fear.
Then doubly welcome are ye ; here take l^d.
For ever5'thing shall be at 3'om: command.”
So without fear they landed at that word,
^
told him who the}’ were, which when he heard,
Through the fair streets he brought tliem to the king,
uTio feasted them that night with ever}'tliing
That man could ivish ; but when on the next day
They gathered at the port to go away.
The Mind was foul and boisterous, so perforce
lest they should come to
There must they bide, ivorse.
(There abode tliey fourteen days, in M'hich time MroM

seer was slain by a wild boar, and the
Tiphys died of a snake-bite. The latter’s place Ergmns
took, the son of Neptune.)
Now leaving that fair land, nought tliey beheld

For seven days but sea and changeful sli}'.
But on the eightli day could L}'nceus espy
A land far off, and nigher as they drew
Bithjm^
•A rioiMbmli city. Probably Heradea Pontica, in
(5,SCS)
backed up by mountaius blue
A low nrecn shore, and fear.
Cleft and there. aU saw, twixt hope
seemed to them they should be near
m
For now it
wi4ed-for goal
VOicrc in the great
and the place
of -dhi.
pa
Phasis emls his race.
the beach
tk) creeping carefully along
did they re.ph,
The mouth of a green river yellow bar
CleavinE tlie sands, and on the
rraves and tlic fresh waves were at war.
The salt
As Phiy'xus erst beheld tliem, but no man
e’er had sailed that water wan,
Among tlicm
his tomb.
Now that rvisc Tiphj'S layinwithin
tliat resistless doom
Natliclcss they, uTapt
The Vates had woven, turned from off the sea
Argo’s head, and rowing mightily

fair
Drave her across the bar, who with straight keel
The eddông stream against her bows did feel.
So wiui the wind behind them, and tlie oars
tliey went betwbet tlic shores
Still hard at work,
Against the ebb, and now full oft espied
Tnmhomesteads here and there on either side.
And at the least knew tliat some town was nigh,
i^d thought to hear new tidings presently ;
Whiclt happed indeed, for on tlie turn of tide.

At ending of a long reach, they espied
A city wondrous fair, which seemed indeed
To hi- tlie river’s course but, taking heed
^n
;
And draiving nigher, found out the case.

That on an island budded was tlie place
The more p^
of it but four bridges fair
;
Set thick witli goodly houses everjm-here.

Crossed two and two on each side to tlie land,
\^^lereon was budt, with walls on either hand,
outwork, lest that war should fall
A toweredland,
Upon the and midmost of each wall
A noble gate ; moreover did they note
Resistless doom. NoUce tte fatalism of the Greek ouUook on life.
A stretch of nver octween two bends.
About the whan'es full many a ship and boat.
And they beheld the sunlight glistering
On aims of men and many a warlike thing,
As nigher to the city they were borne,
And heard at last some huge deep booming horn
Sound from a tower o’er the watery way.
Whose last loud note was taken up straightway
By many another fartlier and more near.
Now when tliey did tlierewith loud shouting hear.
Then Jason bade them arm for what might come,
" For
now," quoth he, " I deem we reach the home
Of that great marvel we are sworn to seek,
^r do I think to find these folk so weak
ât they with few words and a gift or two
Will give us that for which they did forgo
Fair fame, the love of Gods, and praise of men ;
Be strong and play the man, I bid you then.

For certes in none other wise shall ye^^
Oome back again to grassy Thessaly.”
Then loud they shouted, clean forgetting fear.
And strong Erginus Argo straight did steer
On to the port but through the crowded waist
;
Jason to the high prow, making haste

Fo be the first to look upon that throng.
Smeldless he was, although liis fingers strong
About a sharpened brass-bound spear did meet.
And as the ashen oars swept on, his feet
Moved lightly to their cadence under him ;
^0 stood he like a God in face and limb.
_Now drawing quickly nigh the landing-place.

by little did they slack tlieir pace.
Little
Till halfa bowshot from the shore they lay.
{hen Jason shouted : “ What do ye to-day
An armed, O warriors ? and ivhat towm is this
That here by seeming ye have little bliss
Df quiet life, but, smothered up in steel,
Certes, Certainly.
OS STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
merchant k^l
Vp needs must meet each harmless it bnng
your haven, though perchance
That nears thing
Good news, and many a mucli-dcsircd
That ye may get good cheap ?
and such ate \% c.
waadarers upon the troublous sea.
But
\ntliin our hold,
Careful of that stored up
Phoenician scarlet, spice, and Indian
gold,
neen-dvcinc earths, and woad and cinnabar.
that are
Wrought arms and vessels, and all things
Desired much by dwellers in all lands ;
hands
Nor doubt us friends, altliough indeed our
Lack not for weapons, for the unfenced head,
Wdiere we have been, soon lies among the dead.
So spake he witli a smiling face, nor lied ;
For he, indeed, was purposed to have tried

To tviii the Fleece neither by war or stealth ;
But by an open hand and heaps of wealth,
If so it might be, bear it back again,
Nor tvith a handful fight a host in vain.
But being now silent, at the last he saw
A stir among those folk, who ’gan to draw
Apart to right and left, leaving a man
Alone amidst them, unarmed, with a wan
And withered face, and black beard mixed uath
That swept ms who tlicse words did say
girdle,
“ O seafarers, I you now to know
give
That on tliis town oft falleth many a foe.
Therefore not lightly may folk take the land
With helm on head, and naked steel in hand ;
Now, since indeed ye folk are but a few.

We fear you not, yet fain would that we knew
Your names and countries, since within this tomi
Of .dia may a good man lay him down
Good cheap. At a ôod bargain.

Woad, Aplant yielding a blue dye.
Neither by aiar or rfeaH7i,-Shcmld strictly be “by neither nor,”
in order to have corresponding correlative conjunctions’
•^d fear for nought, at least while I am king,
•dietes, bom to heed full many a tiling.”
Now Jason, hearing tins desired name
He thought to hear, grown hungner for fame,
mth eager heart, and fair face flushed for pnde,
baid :
“ King iEetes, if not over mde
Hy name is knowui, that yet may come to be,
Lor I am Jason of tlie Min}'®,
•^d through great penis have I come from Greece,
^d now, since this is .Ea, and the Fleece
thou slayedst once a guest to get, hangs up
V' itliin thine house, take many a golden cup.
And arms, and spice, and gold,
dyestuffs, cloth, and
goods that he within our hold ;
Which are not mean, for neither have we come
Leaving all things of price shut up at home,
A or have we seen the faces of great kings
And left them giftless ; tlierefore take these thmgs
And be our friend ; or, few folk as we are,
11® Gods and we may bnng thee bitter care.”
Then spake Eetes " Not for any word,
:
Gr for the glitter of thy bloodless sword,

G youngling, ^vill I give tlie Fleece to thee,
ôr yet
Lehold,
for gifts, —for wliat are such to me ?
thy folk joined hand to hand
if all
they should not, striving, be enough to stand
And girdle round my bursting treasure-house ;
êt, since of tlus tiling thou art amorous.

And 1 love men, and hold tlie Gods in fear,
and tlime vail land, then ma5'st thou hear
Jât great tilings tliou must do to win the Fleece ;
then, if thou \vilt not dare it, go in peace.
out come now, thou shalt hear it amidst wine
tod lovely things, and songs well-nigh di^dne,
tod all the feasts that thou hast shared erewhile
ith other kings,
' '
to mine shall be but vile,
to heed full vumy
a tlwig. Notice tlus stock phrase or clichS,
Used for gener<U purposes. It is purposely \ ague.
thy Jand,
Lest thou shouldst name me, coming to
A poor guest-fearing man, of niggard hand-
So spake he outwardly, but inly thought,
“ Within two days this lading shall be brouglu
To lie amongst my treasures with the best,
rest.
Wlrile ’neath the earth these robbers lie at
But Jason said “ King, if these things be sue
:
As man may do, I shall not fear them much.

And at thy board will I feast merrily
To-night, if on the morrow I must die ;
And yet, beware of treason, since for nought

Such by none arc lightly bought.
lives as ours
" Draw on, O
heroes, to the shore, if ye
Are wiling still this great king’s house to see.’
Thereat was Argo brought up to the shore.
And straight all landed from her, less and more,
And the king spake to Jason honied words,
And idle were all spears, and sheathed all swords,
As toward the palace they were gently brought.
But Jason, smiling outwardly, yet thought
Within his heart “ All this is fair enow.
;
Yet do I think it but an empty show ;
Natheless, until the end comes, \vill not I,

Like a bad player, spoil the braverj'
By breaking out before they caU my turn :
And then of me some mastery they maj' learn.”

Amidst these thoughts, between the fair streets led,
He noted well the size and goodly-head
Of all the houses ; and the folk well clad.
And armed as though good store of wealth they had.
Peering upon them wth a wondering gaze
At last a temple, built in ancient days
Ere .®a was a to\vn, they came unto •
Huge was it, but not fair unto the view

Of one beholding from without, but round
Lading, - Mastery, Masterly sldU.
Of Apollo. i-aurel was sacred to him.
;

The ancient place they saw a spot of ground
Where laurels grew each side the temple door,
And two great images set up before.
Now over against this temple, towering high
.ôve houses, rose majestically
all
petes’ marble house ; silent it stood.
Brushed round by doves, though many a stream of
blood
Had trickled o’er its stones since it was built.
But now, unconscious of all woe and guilt.
It drank the sunhglit that fair afternoon.
Then spake iEetes “ Stranger, thou shalt soon
:
Hear all thou wouldst hear in my house of gold

Yet ere thou enterest the door, behold
That ancient temple of the Far Darter,
•^d know that thy desire hangeth there.
Against the gold wall of the inmost shnne.
Guarded by seven locks, whose keys are thine
'Vhen thou hast done what else thou hast to do.
”
And thou mayst well be bold to come thereto
“ King,”
said the prince, “ fe;ur not, but do thy part.
Nor look to see me turn back faint of heart.
And here I think to see full many a thing
Men love ; so, whatso the next day may bnng,
^ght merrily shall pass these coming hours
Amidst fair things and ivine-cups crowned with
flowers."
“ Enter,
O guests,” the king said, “ and doubt not
Ye sh^ see things to make tlie heart grow hot
With joy and longing.” ...
And straight the king took Jason by the hand.
And entered, and the Mmyae did stand
Two great images. One of Diana, goddess of the moon, the other
of
Apollo, the sun-god . „ , „
"pislcd round Notice the metaphor, and
rar Darter, Apollo. As the god who punishes, he is representea
"ith bow and arrows.
eleven, A mystic number.
been
In stich a hall as there has never
Before or af terv^-ards, since Ops was
queen.
The pillars, made the mighty roof to hold,
The one was silver and tlie ne.\t was gold
All down tlie hall the roof, of some strange wooa
;
Brought over sea, ^vas dyed as red as blood.

Set thick with silver flowers, and delight
Of intert\s-ining figures wrought aright.
With richest webs the marble halls were hung,
Picturing sweet stories by tlie poets sung
From ancient days, so that no wall seemed tliere,
Blit rather forests black and meadows fair, _

And streets of well-built towns, with tumbling seas
About their marble whar\-es and palaces ;
And fearful crags and mountains ; and all trod
By many a changing foot of njanph and God,
Spear-sliaking warrior and slim-ankled maid.
Tlie floor, moreover, of the place was laid
With coloured stones, wrought like a flowery mead ;
And readjf to the hand for every’ need,
JBdmost the hall, two fair streams trickled down,
O’er w’ondrous gem-like pebbles, green and brown,
Betw’ixt smooth banks of marble, and therein
Bright-coloured fish shone tlirough the water thin.
Now, 'midst these w’onders were there tables spread,
VVfliither the wandering seafarers were led,
^d there ivith meat and drink full delicate
Were feasted, and strange dainty things tliey ate.
Of unused savour, and drank godlike wine ;
"Wfliile from the golden galleries, divine
Heart-softening music breathed about the place ",
And ’twixt the pillars, at a gentle pace.

Passed lovely damsels, raising voices sw'eet
OpSf IVife of SatUTQ, whose teign in Latium was known as the Golden
Age.
"With richest tt'rfc. Remember the poet’s owm love of tapestry-
making ana tapestry.
The floor, etc. NoUce the clear water^mlour effect of this set
descnption.
;

And shrill unto the music, while their feet
From thin dusk raiment now and then would gleam
Upon the polished edges of the stream.
Long sat the Minj^re there, and for their parts
Few words they said, because, indeed, their hearts,
O’er-burdened with delight, stiU dreaded death ;
Nor did they think that they might long draw breath
In such an earthl}' paradise as this.
But looked to find sharp ending to their bhss.
BOOK tTI
So long they sat, until at last the sun

Sank in the sea, and noisy day was done.
Then bade lEetes light the place, that they
^
Might turn grim-looking night into the day;
nfiiereon, the scented torches bemg brought.
As men with shaded eyes the shadows sought,^
Turning to Jason, spake the king these words :
" Dost thou now wonder, guest, tliat mth sharp

swords
And mailed breasts of men I fence myself,
Not as a pedlar guarding his poor pelf.
But as a God shutting the door of heaven .
Behold O prince, for threescore years and seven

!
Have I dwelt here in bliss, nor dare I give

Jhe Fleece to thee, lest I should cease to live ,
Nor dare I quite this treasure to withhold,

Lest to the Gods I seem grown over-bold
For many a cunning man I have, to tell
Divine foreshadoivings of the oracle,
^d thus they warn me. Therefore thou shalt
hear
nfiiat well may fill a hero’s heart with fear ;
But not from my old lips ; that thou ma5’st have,
odiether thy life thou here wilt spill or save.
sense.
Pelf, Wealth ;
used in contemptuous
At least one joy before thou comest
”
to die :
Ho ye, bid in my lady presently !
But J;ison, wondering what should comp of this

With haul well steeled to suffer woe or bliss,
Sat waiting, while within the music ceased.
But from without a strain rose and increased.
Till shrill and clear it drew anigh the hall,
But silent at the entry did it fall
And through the place there was no other sound
But falling of light footsteps on the ground.
For at the door a band of maids was seen,
Who went up towards the dais, a lovely queen
Being in tlieir midst, who. coming nigh the place
Wdierc the king sat, passed at a gentle pace
Alone before the others to the board.
And said :
“ /Ectes, father, and good lord,
\Miat thou wouldst have of me to-night ? ”
is it
“ O daughter,” said /Ectes, “ tell aright
Unto this king’s son here, who is my guest,
Wdiat things he must accomplish, ere his quest
Is finished, who has come this day to seek
The golden fell brought hither by the Greek,
The son of Athamas, the imlucky king.
That he may know at last for what a thing
He left the meadowy land and peaceful stead.”
Then she to Jason turned her golden head,
And reacliing out her lovely arm, took up
From off the board a rich fair-jewelled cup.
And said “ O prince, these hard things
;
must ye do i
First, going to their stall, bring out the two

Great brazen bulls, the king my
father feeds
On grass of Pontus and strange-nurtured seeds ;
'
Hor heed what they may do, but take the plough
That in tlieir stall stands ever bright enow,
A Medea, niece of
lovely gtieen, Circe, and the greatest sorceress in
Greek story.
Fell, Fleece.
Ponttis, A country on the southH:ast coast of the Black Sea.
; —
And on their gleaming necks cast thou the yoke,
drive them as thou maj^st, wth cry and stroke.
Through the grey acre of the God of war.
" Then,
when turned up the long straight furrows
are.
Take thou the sack that holds the serpent’s teeth
Our fathers slew upon the sunless heatli
There sow those evil seeds, and bide thou there
Tih they send fortli a strange crop, nothing fair,
'
mich garner thou, if thou canst 'scape from death.
"
But if thereafter still thou drawest breath.
Then shaft thou have the seven keys of the shrine
Wierein the beast’s fair golden locks yet shine ;
But yet sing not the song of triumph then.
Or think thyself the luckiest of men ;
i^r just within the brazen temple-gates
the guardian of the Fleece for ever waits,
A fork-tongued dragon, charmed for evermore
lo \vrithe and wallow on tlie precious floor,
Sleepless, upon whose skin no steel will bite.
Ifthen with such an one thou needs must fight,
Or knowest arts to tame him, do thy worst,
:"Or, carrying off
the prize, shaft thou be curst
By us or any God. But yet, think weU
ri these three
things be not impossible
to any man
and make a bloodless end
;
yt this thy quest, and as my father’s friend
\v ell
gifted, in few days return in peace,
B^îng for nought, forgetful of the Fleece.
Therewith she made an end but while she spoke
Bê Love unseen, and cast Iris golden yoke
;
About them both, and sweeter her voice grew,

^d softer ever, as berivixt them flew, .
” ith fluttering wings, the new-born strong desue ,
And when her eyes met his grey eyes, on fire

Field.
tnrtwig /or, etc.
Notice the use of a trochaic
imtlal
eltec
^
.
j
pyrrluc fourth foot to produce a speecli-conclusion

76 STORY POEMS PROM MORRIS
shame
With that that burned her, then with s’tt'cct new
reddened, and there went and caine
Her fair face
Delicious tremors through her. But he pid
:
“ A bitter song thou singest, ro3-al maid,

Unto a sweet tune ;
j’et doubt not that I
To-morrow this so certain death will tra’
And dvnng, maj’ perclrance not pass iimvept,
And with sweet memories may m\' name be kept.
That men call Jason of the Minyie.” . r
said she, trembling Take, this o

Then ; tlicn,
me.
And drink in token that thy life is passed.
And that thy reckless hand' the die has cast."
Therewith she reached the cup to him, but lie
Stretched out his hand, and took it joj'fully,
As tilth the cup he touched her daintj' hand,
Uor was she loth awhile with him to stand.
Forgetting all else in that honied pain.
At last she turned, and with head raised again
He drank, and swore for nought to leave that quest
Till he had reached the worst end or the best ;
And down the hall the clustering Minyte
Shouted for joy his godlike face to see.
But she, departing, made no further sign
Of her desires, but, while with song and wine
They feasted till the fevered nit,ht was late.
Within her chamber sat, made blind by fate.
(Later the ^mc night Meriea took boat alone to^ a
laagic wood, there by help of Arteniis to procure a phi^
of protective oil, some potent herbs, and a ball of
crystal. Artenns delaying help, Medea exclaimed against
the goddess, who thereupon yielded, but decreed a fear-
ful penalty to be paid some future day. Medea then
letumed to the town m
haste, the dawning light menac-
°
ing discovery.) .
At last she reached the gilded water-gate

And though nigh breathless, scarce she dared to wait
;

fîsten up her shallop to the stone,
nTiich yet she dared not leave
; so this being
done.
Swiftly by passages and stairs she ran,
trembling and pale, though not yet seen by man.
Until to Jason’s chamber door she came.
And there awhile indeed she stayed, for shame

Rose up against her fear but mighty love
;
And the sea-haunting rose-crowned seed of Jove
U srmastered both ; so trembling, on the pin
She laid her hand, but ere she entered in
She covered up again her shoulder sweet,
;^d dropped her dusky raiment o’er her feet
entering the dimly-lighted room,
'Vhere with the lamp dawn struggled, through the
gloom,
.
_
seeking the prince she peered, who sleeping lay
Upon his gold bed, and abode the day
^mng, still clad in arms, and round his sword _
His fingers met then she, %vith a soft ivord,

;
êw nigh him, and from out his slackened hand

With slender rosy fingers drew the brand,
hen kneehng, laid her hand upon his breast.
2
And said : “ O Jason, wake up from thy rest,
“eiânce from thy last rest, and speak to me.”
Then fell his light sleep from him suddenly,
^d pn one arm he rose and clenched his hand,
aising it as though it held the brand,
AM on up,side and that began to stare.
tills
_
Q,
Aut bringing
close to liim her visage fair,
Me whispered :
“ Smite not, for thou hast no sword,
peak not above thy breath, for one loud word
both thee and me. Day grows apace ;
'hat day thou knowest Canst tliou see my face

1
.
night thou didst behold it with such eyes,

I, Medea, ivise
among the wise,
seed of Jove, Venus ;
in Greek, Aphrodite.
7S STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Tlie safeguard of my father and liis land.
Who have been used with steady eyes to Sian
In awful groves alone mth Hecate, .
Henceforth must call myself the bond of ute

,
The fool of love speak not, but kiss mctlicn.

;
Yea, kiss my lips, that not the best of men j
Has touched ore thou. .Mas, quick comes the ‘
Draw back, but hearken what I have to say.

For evciy moilicnt do I dread to hear
Tliy wakcjicd folk, or our folk drawing near ;
Tliercfore 1 speak .as if with my last brcatli,
Shameless, beneath the shadowing wings of deatl
,
Tliat still may let us twain again to meet.

And snatch from bitter love tlie bitter sweet
Tliat some folk gather while they wait to die-
“ .Alas, I loiter, and the day is nigh !
Sootldy I came to bring thee more than this,

Tlie memoiy of an unasked fruitless kiss.
Upon thy dcatli-day, whiclt this day would be
If there were not some little help in me.”
Thereuitli from out her wallet did she draw
The phial, and a ciy’Stal without flaw
Shaped like an apple, scored with words about.
Then said “ But now I bid thee have no doubt.
:
With this oil hidden by these gems and gold

Anoint tltine arms and body, and be bold, ,
Nor fear the fire-breatliing bulls one whit.

Such mighty îrtue have I dravTi to it,
Wdiereof I give tliee proof." Tlierewith her hand
"She thrust into the lamp-flame tliat did stand
Anigh tlie bed, and showed it him again
Unscarred byâny wound or drawn with pain,
Then said ; Now, when Mars’ plain is ploughed
last
Hccnte, The dread goddess of sorcerr-.

Prevent us two from meeting,
of repetition for poignant emphasis.
mars plain, Field for mihtary exercises.
And in the furrows those iU seeds are cast,
^ke tliou this ball in hand and watch the thing ;
shalt thou see a horrid crop upspring

Of aU-armed men therefrom to be thy bane,
ere I not here to make their fury vain.
^
Draw not thy sword against them as they rise,
amid them, and their eyes
cast this ball
bhall serve them then but little to see thee.
And each of other’s weapons slain shall be.
“ Now
wiU my father liide his rage at heart,
^d praise thee much that thou hast played thy part.
And bid thee to a banquet on this night.
And pray thee wait until to-morrow’s light
Before thou triest the Temple of the Fleece.
^^st not to him, but see that unto Greece
ship’s prow turns, and all is ready there.
^d at the banquet let thy men forbear
ê maddening wine, and bid them arm them aU
Lor what upon this night may chance to fall.
" Now will I
get by stealth the keys that hold
The seven locks which guard the Fleece of Gold ;
And while we try the Fleece, let thy men steal,

Howso they may, unto the ready keel, _
Thus art thou saved alive with thy desire.
“ But what thing will be left to me but fire .
The fire of fierce despair within my heart.

The while I reap my guerdon for my part.
Curses and torments, and in no long space
Real fire of pine-wood in some rocky place,
Wreatliing around my body greedily,
A dreadful beacon o’er the leaden sea.” _
„ Jason drew her to him, and he s^d :

“ Nay, by these tender hands and golden head,
That saving things for me have wrought to-night.
I know not wh{it may I rather bum,
;
Nor may the flame die ever, if I turn
Back to my hollow ship, and leave thee here,
Wlio in one hour art become so desir.
8o STORY POEMS FROM IMORRIS
Thy lips so longed for, that at last I know
Wliy men have been content to stilTcr woe
Past telling, if the Gods but granted this,
A little while such lips as thine to kiss,
A little while to drink such deep delight.
nie 5
“ Mlial wouldst thou ? M'llt thou go from
The light
Is grey and tender
yet, and in your land
Surely the twilight, lingenng long, doth stand
’Tsvixt dawn and day."
“ O prince,” she said, “ I came
To save your life. 1 cast ofl fear and shame
A little while, but fear and shame are here.
The hand tliou boldest trembles witli my fear,
Witli shame my cheelcs arc burning, and the sound
Of mine own voice but ere tins hour comes round,
;
M'c twain will be betsvixt tlte dtishing oars,

The ship still making for the Grecian shores.
Farewell till then, though in tlie lists to-day
Thyself shalt see me watching out tlie play."
Theresvitlt she drew off from him. and was gone,

And in tlie chamber Jason left alone.
Praising the heavenly one, Queen of Jove,
tlie
Pondered upon this unasked gift of love. ’
And aU the changing wonder of his life.

But soon he rose to fit him for the strife.
And ere the sun his orb began to lift
O’er tlie dark hills, with fair Medea’s gift
His arms and body he anointed well.
And round about his neck he hung the spell
Against the earth-bom, the fair crystal ball
Laid in a purse, and tlien from wall to wall.
Athwart the chamber paced full eagerly.
Expecting when the fateful time should be.
A little white, etc. Note the repetition to produce a dweitou eliect

of longine.
;
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 8i
BOOK VIII
Now when she woke again tlie bright sun glared

In at the window, and the trumpets blared.
Shattering the sluggish air of that hot day.
For fain the king would be upon his way.
And she descending, came into the hall.
And found her father clad in royal paU,
Holding the ivory rod of sovereignty.
And Jason and his folk were standing by.
Now was êtes saying : “ Hmyie,
And you, my people, who are here b5’^ me,
Take heed, that by his wilful act to-day
This man will pensh, neither will I slay
One man among you. Nay, Prince, if ye will,
A safe return I give unto you still.”
But Jason answered, smiling in his joy :
" Once more, lEetes, nay. Against this toy

My life is pledged, let aU go to the end.”
Then, lifting up his ejês, he saw his friend.
Made fresh and loveher by her quiet rest.
And set his hand upon his mailed breast,
Vdiere in its covering lay tlie crj'’stal ball.
But the king said : “ Then let what will fall, fall 1
Since time that we were on the wa}'^

it is
And tliou, O daughter, shalt be there to-day.
And see thy father's glor^' once more shown
Before our folk and those the wand has blown
From manjf lands to see this play pla5'’ed out.”
Then raised the Colchians a mighty shout.
And doubtful grew tlie Minyai of the end,
Umritting who on that day was their friend.
But doum the hall tlie king passed, who did hold
Medea’s hand, and on a car of gold
PaU, JIantle.
Fall, fall. Note the decisive, doom-like effect of the repetition.
fcbCS) 6
Tlifv mownterl, dm\%n anieh tl\c carvcn door.
And spearmen of tlu' Colclii.in'^ wnt bclorc
And followed after, and the Minyre
Set close together followed solenmlv.
Headed by Jason, at the heels of tliesc.
So passed they through the streets cit'd
Thronged with much folk, and o’er the bridges p
And to the open country came at last,
Nor there went far, but’ turning to tlie right,
Into a close they came, where there were dight
Long galleries about the fateful staid,
Built aU of marble fair and roofed witli lead.
And carved about with stories of old time.
And all around them golden Uncs of rhyme.
Moreover, midmost was an image made
Of mighty Mars who maketh kings afraid,
That looked down on an altar builded fair.
Wherefrom already did a fire glare
And made the hot air glassy with its heat.
So in tlie gallery did tlic king take seat
With fair Medea, and the Colchians stood
Hedging tlie twain in with a mighty wood
Of spears and axes, while tlie Minya:
Stood off a space the fated tilings to see.
Ugly and rugged was that spot of ground,
And with an iron waD was closed around.
And at the fartlier end a monstrous cage
Of iron bars, shut in the stupid rage
Of those two beasts, and tliercfrom ever came
The flashing and the scent of sulphurous flame.
As ivith their brazen clangorous bellowing
They hailed the coming of the Colcliian king ;
Nor was there one of the seafaring men
But trembled, gazing on the deadly pen.
But Jason only, who before the rest
Shone like a star, having upon his breast
,

A golden corselet from tlie treasur3'
Of \nse King Pliineus b}' the doubtful sea,
By an EgjT>tian wrought who would not stay
At Salmydessa more than for a day,
But on Oiat day the wondrous breastplate wrought,
Which with good will and strong help Jason bought
And from that treasury' his golden shoe
Came, and liis thighs the king’s gift covered too ;
But on his head his father's helm was set

Wreathed round with bay leaves, and his sword lay
yet
Within the scabbard, while his ungloved hand
Bore nought witlun it but an olive wand.
Now King Aictcs well beholding him,
Fearless of mien and so unmatched of limb.
Trembled a little m his heart as now
He bade the hom-blow'ers the challenge blow,
But thought, " What strength can help him, or wdiat
heart.
Or which "
of all the Gods be on his part ?
Impious, who knew not through what doubtful days.
E’en from his birth, and perilous rough w’ays
Juno had brought liim safely, nor indeed
Of his owTi daughter’s quivering lips took heed.
And restless hands wherein the God so WTOUght,
The wase man seeing her had known her thought.
Now Jason, when he heard the challenge blow’.
Across the evil fallow 'gan to go
With face beyond its wont in nowise pale.
Nor footsteps faltering, if tliat might avail
The doomed man aught so to the cage he came.
;
Whose bars now glowed red-hot with spouted flame.

In many a place ; nor doubted any one
Who there beheld him that his days were done.
Except his love alone ; and even she,
Sickeiung with doubt and terror, scarce could see
Fallow, Uncultivated land

; ;
84 STORY PORMS FROM MORRIS

The Iicro draw the brazen bolt aside
And throw the glowing wicket open wide.
But he alone, apart trom hi? dc’Sirc,
Stood unarmed, facing those two founts of fire,
Yet feart'd not aught, for liope and fear were dcao
Within his heart, and utter hardihead
Had Juno set there ; but the awful beasts
Beholding now the best of all their feasts.
Roared in tlicir joy and fuiy', till from sight_
They and tlie prince were hidden b\’ the white
Thick-rolling clouds of suljihurous pungent smoke.
Through which upon the blinded man they broke.
But when within a j-ard of him tliey came.
Baffled they stopped, still bellowing, and the flame
StiU spouting out from nostril and from moutli,
As from some island mountain in the south
The trembling mariners behold it cast
But still to right and left of him it passed,
Breaking upon him as cool water might.
Nor banning more, except that from his sight
All comers of the cage were hidden now.
Nor knew he where to seek the brazen plough ;
As to and fro about the quivering cage
The monsters rushed in helpless and blind rage.
But as he doubted, to his eyes alone
Witliin the place a golden light outshone.
Scattering the clouds of smoke, and he beheld
Once more the Goddess who lus head upheld
In rough Anaums on tliat otlicr tide ;
She, smiling on him, beckoned and 'gan glide

With rosy feet across the fearful floor.
Breathing cool odours round her, till a door
She opened to him in the iron wall.
Through which he passed, and found a gristy stall
Of iron stiU, and at one end of it.
By glimmering lamps u-ith greenish flame half lit.
Beheld tlie yoke and slrining plough he sought
MTiich, seizing straight, by mighty strength he brought
; ;

Unto the door, nor found the Goddess there.
Meanwhile upon the foreheads of the twain
Uad Jason cast the yoke wdth little pain,
And drove them now with shouts out through the
door
uTiich in such guise ne’er had they passed before :
hor never were they made the earth to till,

ût rather, feeding fat, to work the wall
Uf some all-knowing man but now they went
;
Like any peasant’s beasts, tamed by the scent
Of those new herbs Medea’s hand had plucked,
ndiose roots from evil earth strange power had sucked.
Now in the open field did Jason stand
•^d to the plough-stilts set his unused hand,
And down betwdxt them lustily he bent
Then the bulls drew, and the bright ploughshare
sent
The loatlily fallow up on the right side,
iîlst o’er their bellowing shrilly Jason cried ;
Draw nigh, O king, and thy new ploughman see.

Then mayst thou make me shepherd, too, to thee."
Such^ mocks he said but when the sunlight broke
;
Upon liis armour tlirough the sulphurous smoke.

And showed the lengthening furrow cutting through
The ugly fallow as anigh they drew.
The joyful Minym gave a might}^ shout
But pMe the lung sat with brows knit for doubt.
Muttering “ Whose counsel hast thou taken, then.
;
To do this thing, which not the best of men

Could do unholpen of some sorcery ?
\Vhoso it is, mse were he now to die
Ere yet I know him, since for many a day
Vain]}' for deatli I hope to hear liim pra}'.’’
Again with his last words the shouts broke out
From the seafarers, for, beside the yoke.
Ploush-stiU*:, Handles.
m STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Before Mars’ altar did Prince Jason stand,
Holding the wand of olive in his hand,
And on the new-turned furrow shone the sun
Beliind him, and his half-day's work was done.
And now another marvel for, behold.

;
As at furrow's end he slacked his hold

tlie
Upon the plough-stilts, all the bellowing . ^
Wherewith the beasts had made the grim close nng,
Fell suddenly, .and all the fire died
That they were wont crewhile to scatter wide
From mouth and nostril and their loins and knees
;
Stiffened, and they grew nought but images

Lifelike but lifeless, wonderful but dead ;
Such as he makes, who many a day hath fed
His furnace \wth the becchwood. when tlic clay
Has grown beneath liis deft hands day bj' day
And all is ready for tlic casting ; then
Such things as these he makes for royal men.
“ O
Jason.” said the king. “ well mayst thou live
For many a day. since thou this deed hast done.
But for the Gods, not unto any one
Will I give gifts but let them take from me
;
Mhat once they gave, if so the thing must be.

But do thou take tliis sack from out my hand
And cast its seed about the new-tilled land.
And watch the issue ; and keep words till then,
I counsel tlree, O luckiest of men."
Then Jason took the sack, and wdth it went

About tliat field new turned, and broadcast sent
The white teeth scattering, but or ere he came
Back to the altar and the flickering flame.
He heard from ’neath the earth a muttered sound
That grew and grew, tUl all that piece of ground
Swelled into little hillocks, like as where
A stricken field was foughten, but that there
Quiet tire heroes’ bones lie underneath
The quivering grasses and the dusky heath ,
But now these heaps the labouring earth upthrew

About Mars’ acre, ever greater grew,
And still increased the noise, till none could hear
His feUow speak, and paleness and great fear
Fell upon all and Jason only stood
;
As stands the stout oak in the poplar wood

Wdien rvinds are blowing. , ,
Then he saw the mounds

Bursten asunder, and the muttered sounds
Changed into loud strange shouts and warhke clang.
As with freed feet at last the earth-born sprang
On to the tumbling earth, and the sunlight
Shone on bright arms clean ready for the hSht.
But terribly they showed, for tlrrough the place
Not one there was but had his staring face.
With great wide eyes, and lips in a set smue.
Turned full on Jason, w'ho, for a short while.
Forgot indeed Medea’s warning word.
And from its golden sheath hi^ drerv his sword.
But tlien, remembering aU, cried valiantly :
—
“ New bom ye are new slain too shall ye be,
,Take this, and round about it read your doon^
And bid them make new dw'eUings in the tomb,
\Vherefrom ye came, nor ever should have passed.
Therewith the ball among the host he cast
Standing to watch what next that folk would do.
But he the ball had smitten turned unto
The one who stood by him and like a cup
Shattered Ms head then the next lifted up
;
His axe and slew’^ the slayer, and straightway

Among the rest began a deadly fray.
No man gave back a foot, no breathing space
One took or gave witiiin that dreadful place.
But where tlie vanquished stood there w’as he slmn.
And straight the conquering ami w’as raised again
To meet its match and in its turn to fall.
No tide was there of fainting and recall.
SS STOKY POEMS I'ROM MORRIS
No quiv(>rin« \x‘nnon o’er tUfir beads to iiit-
Nor name or eauer sbont called oyer

No groan of pain, and no despairing ery ,
From him who knows hi? time has coinc to

>
But passionless each bore him in that figut.

Scarce otherwi>o than as a smith migiit snm
Oil sounding iron or bright glittering brass.
So, little by little, did the clamour pass
As one by one each fell down in his place.
Until atlast, midmost the bloody space.
One man was left, alive but wounded sore,
Who, staring round about and seeing no more
His brothers' spears against him, fixed liis c^’cs
Upon the quellcr of tlidse mysteries. ,
Tlicn dreadfully they gleamed, and with no worn,

Ho tottered towards him tvith uplifted sword.
But scarce he made three paces domi the field, _
Ere chill death reached his heart, and on his shicjn

Clattering he fell. So satiate of fight
Quickly the earth-born were, and their delight
With what it fed on perished, and one hour
Ripened the deadly fruit of that fell flower.
Then, Jason, mocking, cried unto the king :
“ O wonderful, indeed, must be the thing
Thou guardest wth such wondrous guards as these ,'
Make no delay therefore, but bring the keys

That I may see this dear delight of all.”
But on :5Jetes’ face a change did fall.
As though a mask had been set over it,”
And smiles of little meaning ’gan to flit
O’er his tliin lips, as he spake out at last r
“ No haste, dear guest, for surely now is passed
All enmity from twixt us, since I know .
How like a God tliou art ; and thou shalt go

A’o quivering, dc. Notice in this sentence the negative repetition.
to produce a grand positive chmax.
Satiale of fight. More tlian satisfied
mtb. An unexpcoiedlp Lafinizec
expression for Moms.
To-morrow to thy ship, to make for Greece ;
And %vith no trial more, bear back the Fleece

Along our streets, and like no cohqucred thing,
Blit ivith much scattered flowers and tabouring.
Bearing ivith it great gifts and all my love ;
.And in return, I pray thee, pray to Jove,

That I may have a few more jmars of life,
And end at iast in honour, free from strife.
And now to-night be merrjq and let time
Be clean forgotten, and bring Saturn’s clime
And golden days upon our flower-crowned brows.
For of the unseen future what man knows ?
“ O king,” said Jason, “ for these words I praise
Thy ivisdom much, and wish tliee happy days.
And I will give tliee honour as I can.
Naming tliee ever as a noble man
Through all tlie lands I come to and vill take
:
Thy gifts, indeed, and thou, for Jason's sake,

Shalt have gifts too, whatso thy soul may wash,
From out our keel that has escaped the fish.”
So spake those wary foes, fair friends in look,
And so in words great gifts they gave and took,
And had small profit, and small loss thereby.
Nor less Medea feigned, but angrily
Regarded Jason, and across her brow _
Drew close her veil, nor doubted the king now
Her faith and loyalty.
So from the place
Back toward tlic town they turned at a soft pace.
In guise of folk that hold high festival.
Since straightly had Aictcs bid tliat all
Should do the strangers pleasure on that da5^
But warily went Jason on the way.
And through his folk spread words, to take good heed
Of what might come, and ready be at need,
TabouHn^f Playing on small drums; ,
SaUirn*sclitfic ami goUlat days. The golden age of prosperity ana
ip STORY POiiMS FROM >rORRlS
Nor yf‘t to take .'Betts for tlieir friend.
Since even then he jjlotti-d liow to end ^
Tlieir quest and lives ; therefore he bade
til -i-
.^
fai!"
Tiie wine that uiijlu. nor look on d.ain?cls >
But that, the fc.tsi clone, all should <;tca!thu\

Gt-t to the qu.iy. and round about to pca_
Turn .'\rgo's head, and w.ait like hotincb in shP)
Holding the oars, nithm the hollow ship.
“ Nor doubt,” s-aid he, “ that good and glono’
The end shall be, since all the Gods for us
.^re fighting certainly : but should death coinc
Upon me in this land, then turn back home, _
Nor wait till they shall lav your bones with mine.
Since now 1 tlimk to go uiito tlic shrine,
The while ye wait, and take therefrom the Fleece,
Not all unliolpen, and depart in peace,
While yet the barbarous king beholds us dead
In dreams alone, or tliroiigh his waking head
The chase each other for our death.”
rule plots
These things he said, but scarce above his breath.
Unto wsc Nestor, wlio beside him went,
Who unto Bates straight the message sent.
And he to Plilias, so the words at last
Throughout the wondering seafarers had passed,
And so were all made ready for the night.
But on that eve, with manifold delight,
iEctes feasted them in his fair hall ;
But they, well Imowing what might chance to fall.

Sat kiying little, nor cânk deep of trine ;
Until at last the old king gave the sign

To break the feast up, and within a while
All seemed asleep throughout the mighty pile.
All seemed asleep, but now Medea went
With beating heart to work out her intent.
Scarce doubtful of the end, since only two
In all the world, she and .®etes, knew
Wiere the keys were, fax from the light of day.
Beneath the palace. So, in garments grey
Like soft creeping twilight did she go,
tile
Until she reached a passage far bcloiv
The river, past whose oozing walls of stone
She and the king alone had ever gone.
Now she, w'ho thus far had come through the
darlc.
Stopped, and in haste striking a little spark
From something in her hand, lit up a lamp,
^VTiose light fell on an iron door, with damp
All rusted red, which with a key of brass
She opened, and there-through made haste to pass,
Shuddering a little, as her feet ’gan tread
Upon a dank cold floor, though overhead
High-arched the place was, fairly built enow.
But she across the slippery floor did go
Unto the other wall, wherein was built
A little aumbrye, with a door o’crgilt,
That with the story of King Athamas,
And Phryxus, and the ram all carven was.
There did she draw forth from her balmy breast
A yellow flowering herb, that straight she pressed
Upon the lock, low muttering the while ;
But soon across her face tliere passed a smile,

As backward in the lock the bolts did turn.
And the door opened ; then a golden um.
She saw witliin the aumbrye, ivhereon she
Drew out the thing she sought for eagerly.
The seven keys ivith sere-cloth done about.
Then through the dreary door did she pass out, ,
And made it fast, and went her w'ay once more

Through the black darkness on from floor to floor.
And so, being come to Jason, him she found
All armed, and ready therefore, with no somid.
;
She beckoned him to follow, and the twain

Passed through the brazen doors, locked all in vain.
Such virtue had the herb Medea bore,
Aumbo'Ct Cupboard.
Serc-ctoth, Cere-cloth, waxed cloth.
And p.issinij, did they k-avo ajar cadi door.
To gice inori' t'asc unto the ^5in^'aJ.
So out into the fredi luyld silently
The lovers pa-.-etl. the loveht'st ol the land ;
But as they wont, neither did hand toudi hand.

Or face seek fare for. gladsome as they tverc.
;
Trembling with je.y to he at I.xst so near

The wished-Iur day. some God yet seemed to be
'Twixt the Iiard past and tJieir fclidt}’.
BOOK IX
But when they reached the precinct of the God,
And on the hallowed turf tlieir feet now trod,
Medea turned to J.ason, and she said :
“ Now follow me, though little shalt thou do

To gain this tiling, if Hecate bo true
Unto her sen-ant. Nay, draw not thy sword,
And, for thy life, speak not a single word
Until I bid thee, else may all bo lost,
And of this game our lives yet pay the cost.”
Then toward tlie brazen temple-door she went,
MTierefrom, half open, a faint glc.am was sent
For Uttle need of lock it had forsootli.
Because its sleepless guardian knew no ruth.
And had no lust for precious things or gold ;
WTiom, drawing near, Jason could now behold.
As back Medea thrust the hcav}' door.
For prone he lay upon the gleaming floor.
Not moving, though his restless, glittering eyes
Gave unto tliem no least hope of surprise.
Hideous he was, where all tbings else were fair ;
DuU-skinned, foul-spotted, witli lank rusty hair

About his neck and hooked yellow claws
;
Tust shorved from ’neath his belly and huge jaws.

of a smile.
Closed in the hideous semblance
; :

Then Jason shuddered, wondering mth \vhat wile
That fair long’s daughter such a beast could taipe
•And of his sheathed sword had but little sha.mc.
But being within the doors, both mantle grey
And heavj' gowm Medea cast awa}',
And in thin clinging silk alone was clad,
^d round her neck a golden chain she had,
Udiereto was hung a harp of silver white.
Then the great dragon, at that glittering sight,
Raised himself up upon Ms loa&ly feet.
As if to meet her, while her fingers sweet
Already moved amongst the golden strings,
Rreludmg nameless and delicious things ;
But now she beckoned Jason to her side,

Bor slowly towards them ’gan the beast to glide,
And when close to his love the hero came,
She whispered breatlilcssly : “ On me the blame
If here we pensh if I give tlie word,
;
Then know that all is lost, and draw thy sword,

And manhlce die in battle with the beast
Peace, for he cometh O thou Goddess bright,
!
^Vhat help uilt thou be unto me this mght ?

So murmured she, wMle ceaselessly she drew
Her fingers through the strings, and fuller grew
The tinkhng music, but the beast draum mgh
Went slower stiU, and turnmg presently
Began to move around them in a rmg.
And as he went, there fell a strange rattling
Of his drj' scales ;
but as he turned, she turned.
Nor failed to meet the eyes that on her burned
With steadfast eyes, and, lastly, clear and strong
Her voice broke forth in sweet melodious song
“
O evil thing, what brought thee here
To be a wonder and a fear
Unto the river-haunting folk ?
I bid thee now to yield to me.
Her maid, who overmastered thee, ’
1
STORY POEMS FR0:M MORRIS
The Tliree-formcd dreadful one who.rcigiis
In heaven and the fiery plains.
But on the green earth best of all.
“ Lo, now thine upraised crest let fall,
Relax tlu' limbs, let lx>th thine eyes
Beclosed, and bestial fantasies
thy dull head till dawn of day
Fill
And wc are far upon our way.”
As thus she sung the beast seemed not to hear
Her words at first, but overdrew ancar,
Circling about them, and Medea’s face
Grew pale unto the lips, though still the place
Rung with the piercing sweetness of her song ;
But slower soon he dragged his length along.

And on his limbs he tottered, till at last
All fecbl}' by the wondering prince he passed,
And whining to Medea’s feet he crept,
Mfith eyes half closed, as thougli well-nigh he slept.
And there before her laid his head adoum ;
Mlio, shuddering, on his wrinkled neck and brown
Set her white foot, and whispered “ Haste, O love:
I
Behold tlic keys ; haste 1 while the Gods above

Are friendly to us ; there behold tlie shrine
MTiere thou const see the lamp of silver shine.
Nay. draw not death upon both thee and me
With fearless kisses ; fear, until the sea
Shall fold green arms about us lovingty,
And kindly Venus to thy keel be nigh.’”
Then from her soft side Jason stept,
lightly
MTiile upon the beast her foot she kept.
still
Still murmtiring softly many an unkno^vn word.

As when through half-shut casements the brorvn bird
We hearken when the night is come in June.
And thick-leaved woods are ’twixt ns and his tune.
Hecate, three-foimcd because she was
Th,- Three-formed dreadful one,
Luna in heaven, Diana on earth, and Hecate in heU (the fiery
plains). Same as .\rteniis.
Brown bird. Nightingale.

; —
But Jason, going smftty wth good heart,
Came to the wished-for shrine built all apart
Midmost the temple, that on pillars stood
Of jasper green, and marble red as blood.
All white itself and carven cunningly
With Neptune bringing from the wav}' sea
The golden shining ram to Athamas ;
And the door thereof of silver was.

first
Wrought over ivdth a golden glittering sun
That seemed well-nigh alike the heavenly one.
Such art therein the cunningest of men
Had used ; which little Jason heeded then.
But thrusting in the lock the smallest ke}'
Of those' he bore, it opened easilj'
And then five others, neither wrought of gold.
Or canned with tales, or lovely to behold.
He opened but before tlie last one sta5'ed
;
His hand, wherein the heary key he weighed.

And pondering, in low muttered word, he said :
" The prize is reached, which êt I somewhat dread

To draw unto me since I know mdeed.
;
That henceforth war and toil shall be my meed.
May all be well, and on the noisy ways
StiU may I find some wealth of happj' da3'S.’'
Therewith he threw the last door open wide.
Whose hammered iron did the marvel hide.
And shut his dazzled eyes, and stretched his hands
Out toward the sea-bom wonder of aU lands.
And buried them deep in the locks of gold.
Grasping the fleece -witliin his might}'' hold.
Mdiich when Medea saw, her gown of grey
caught up from the ground, and drew away
Her wearied foot from off the rugged beast.
And while from her soft strain she never ceased,
Jason drew nigh, joyfM, yet stUl afraid.
She met him, and her wide grey mantle laid
T/ic prize is reached —
A passage of extraordinary pathos.
.'
the high point of the “ arch ” of the storj*.

It marks
Over the Fleece, whisjyring :
“ Make no delay ;
He sleeps, who never slept by night or dat'

Till now ;
nor will liis channt-d sleep be long.
Light-foot am I. and sure thine anns are strong ;
Haste, then ! Koword! nor turn about to gaze.

Then swiftly did they leave the dreadful place,
Tuniing no look behind, and reached tlie street.
That with familiar look and kind did greet
Those w’andcrers, mazed with marvels and witli fear.
And so, unchallenged, did they draw anear
The long white qua)'s, and at the street’s end now
Beheld the ships’ masts standing row* by row'
Stark black against the stars tlicn cautiously :
Peered Jason forth, ere 11103^ took heart to try

The open starlit place ; but nought he saw'
Except the night-wind tw'itching the loose straw
From half-unloaded keels, and nought he heard
But the strange Uvittering of a caged green bird
Within an Indian ship, and from the hill
A distant baying 3'ea, all w'as so sUll
;
Somewhat they doubted ; natlieless forth tliey passed.

And Argo’s painted sides they reached at last.
On w'hom dow'n-looking, scarce more noise they heard
Than from the other ships some muttered word, ;
Some creaking of the timbers, as the tide

Ran gurgling seaward past her shielded side.
Then Jason knelt, and w'hispered " Wise be ye, ;
O fair companions on the pathless sea

Take me amongst you, neitlier be afrid
To take withal this gold, and this fair maid.
Yaie 1—for the ebb runs strongly tow'ards the sea.”
^nd iiousM he heard,
etc. This pas'a^ is a touchstone of Morris’s
nictoriai power ; and romantically suggests some inevitable
farewell to pleasant, familiar things. Tlis
crisis and a long
magic just previously described
honidy details make the very
hang sliiclds over the ship’s side was a Norse,
not a Greek, practice.
Yare, Quick.
:

Then saw I\Iedea men like shadows grey.
Rise from the darksome decks, who took straightway
With murmured joj', from Jason’s outstretched hands.
The conquered Fleece, the wonder of all lands,
^^dlile mth strong arms he took the royal maid.
And hold the precious burthen laid.
in their
And scarce her dainty feet could touch the deck.
Ere down he leapt, and little now did reck
That loudly clanged his aimour therew ithal.
But, turning townward, did Medea call
" 0
noble Jason, and ye heroes strong.
To sea, to sea nor pi ay j'c loiter long
! ;
For surely shall ye see the beacons flare

'
Ere in mid stream ye are, and running fair
On toward the sea with tide, and oar, and sail.
My father wakes, nor bides he to bewail
His loss and me I see his turret gleam
;
As he goes towards the beacon, and downstream

Abs3Ttus lurks befoie the sandy bar
In mighty keel well manned and dight for war.”
But as she spoke, rattling the cable slipped _
From out the hawse-hole, and the long oars dipped

As from the quays the heroes pushed away,
And in the loosened sail the wind ’gan play ;
But e’en as tliey unto the stroke leaned back.

And Nauplius, catching at the main-sheet slack
Had drawn it taut, out flared the beacon udde.
Lighting the waves, and they heard folk who cried :
" Awake, a,wake, awake, O Colchian folk " !
And all about the blare of horns outbroke.

As watch-tower answered watch-tower down the
stream,
MTiere far below they saw the bale-fires gleam ;
And galloping of horses now they heard.

And clang of arms, and cries of men afeard ;
,/4Z>s5'r/«5, The brother of Medea.
Hawsc’holc, Hole for cable of anchor to pass through.
BalC’fireSf I3eacons.
(2 ,y>s) 7
For now the merchant mariners who lay
About the town, thought surely an ill day
Had dawned ujx)n them while they slept at ease.
And, half awake, pushed madly from the quays
With crash of breaking oars and meeting ships.
And cries and curses from outlandish lips ;
So the quiet night to tunnoil sore.

fell
While in the towers, over the uproar.
Melodiously the bells began to ring.
But Argo, leaping toward to the swing

Of measured oars, and leaning to the breeze.
Sped swiftly ’twixt the dark and whispering trees ;
And as the mingled noises did decrease

With added distance, and behind them night
Grew wan with coming of the eastern light.
Across the strings his fmgers Orpheus drew.
And through the woods his winged music flew.
And he sung joyously, nor knew that they
Must wander yet for many an e\Tl day
Or ever tlie dread Gods should let them come
Back to the white walls of their long-left home.
Now swift beneatli the oar-strokes Argo flew,
MTiile the sun rose behind them, and they drew
Unto the river’s moutli, nor failed to see
Abs5Ti:us’ galley waiting watchfully
Betwixt them and the white-topped turbid bar.
Therefore they gat them ready no\v for w'ar
With joyful hearts, for sharp they sniffed the sea.
And saw the great waves tumbling green and free
Outside the bar upon the way to Greece,
The rough green way to glory and sw'eet peace.
Then to the prow gat Jason, and the maid
Must needs be with him, though right sore afraid.
As nearing now tlie Colchian ship, they hung
with crash . . .
Notice the onoraatopceia.
flea,’.
peace. Note the description by a line in
The way to Greece . . .
apposition, a favourite poetic device.

:
I'' '
On balanced oars but tlie ^vild Areas strung
;
His deadly bow, and clomb into the top.

Then Jason cried “ Abs5Ttus, will ye stop
:
Our pieaceful keel, or let us take the sea ^

Soothly, have we no will to fight witli thee
If we may pass unfoughten, therefore say,
thou wilt have this dawn of day ?
^^^lat is it
Now on the other prow Absyrtus stood.
His visage red with eager wTathful blood.
And in his right hand shook a mighty spear.
And said : “ O seafarers, ye pass not here.
For gifts or praj'ers, but if it must be so.
Over our sunken bulwarks shall ye go ;
Nor ask me why, for thus my father wills.

Yet, as I now behold you, my heart thrills
With wrath indeed and hearken for what cause
;
.
That ye against aU friendship and good laws

Bear off my sister with 3'ou w’herefore now
;
Mars give j'ou courage and a brazen brow !
That ye may try this dangerous pass in vain.

For sootWy of j'our slaughter am I fain.”
Then Jason wathfuUy threw up his head.
But ere the shout came, fair Medea said,_
In trembling whisper thrilling through his ear
“ Haste, quick upon them if before is fear.
1
Behind is death ” Then Jason turning, saw

!
A tall ship staggering wrth the gusty flaw.

Just entering the long reach w'here they were.
And heard her horns through the fresh morning air.
Then lifted he his hand, and with a cry
Back flew the balanced oars full orderty.
And toward the doomed ship mighty Argo passed ;
Thereon Abs3n:tus shouted loud, and cast
Bulwarks^ Sliip’s side above deck. Example of synecdoche.

Flaw. Squall.
Then lifted he .. . Argo out. Ends one of the
_
paâg^ oie
doe
concentrated action-description in the poem. But where
it verge on imconscious humour ?
His spear at Jason, that before liis feet
Stuck in the clerk ; then out the arrows ilcet
sp
Burst from the Colchians and scarce did they;
Medea’s trembling side and bosom fair ;

.
But Jason, roaring as the lioness

M'hen round her helpless whelps the hunters press,
M'hirled round his head his mighty brass-bound
spe^
That flying, smote the prince beneath the ear.
As Areas' arrow sunk into his side.
Tlien falling, scarce he met the rushing tide.
Ere Argo’s mighty prow had thrust apart ^
Tlic huddled oars, and through the fair ship’s heart

Plad thnist her iron beak, then the green wave
Rushed in as rush the waters through a cave
Tliat tunnels half a sea-girt lonely rock.
Then drawing swiftly backward from the shock.
And heeding not the cries of fear and woe,
Tliey left tlie waters dealing with their foe ;
Then at tlie following ship tlirew back a shout,

And seatvard o’er the bar dravc Argo out.
Tlien joyful felt all men as now at last
From liill to green hill of the sea they passed ;
But chiefly joyed Medea, as now grew

Tire Colcluan hills bclrind them faint and blue.
And like a white speck showed the following ship.
'There ’neatli thecanopy, lip pressed to lip,
Tliey sat and told their love, till scarce he thought
Wliat precious burden back to Greece he brought.
So passed this day, and she no less forgot
That wreck upon the bar, the eiil spot.
Red with a brother’s blood, whore long was stayed
'The wratliful king as
from the stream he weighed
liis well-loved son.
Tlie bleeding body of
Lo in such wise their journey was begun.
And so began short love and long decay.
Sorrow that bides and joy that fleets aw'ay.
A),d so began . . . nw«y.—Note the epigrammatic conclusion.

LIFE AED DEATH OF JASON lOI
BOOK X
Night came, but still on by the stars they sailed
Before the innd, till at the dawn it failed,
And faded soon the sunrise pure away,
Leardng the heavens colourless and grey.
And soon before their waj' it seemed as though
A curtain hung they needs must joumej' through,
A low black mist so brooded o’er the sea.
So with the rvindless swell did Argo fare
Two days with furled sails purposeless and blind,
And bearing heavy hearts the third, the wand
;
Sprung up at daybreak, and straight drove away

Tliat hideous mist, that after sunnsc lay
A heavy purple bank down in tlie west.
Then by the sun his way Erginus guessed.

For on no side could they see any land ;
But as upon the helm he set his hand

Such mighty light blazed out upon the prow.
That faint and yellow did the sunlight show
Beside it, and amidst it they beheld
The figure that ere now' their hands had held
Anigh the Mysian shore and now it said
;
;
“ O heroes, wiierefore haste ye to be dead ?

Behold, w'hile through the heart of yonder fog
I, Argo, drifted as an unsteered log,
.dietes passed us going towards tlie straits.
And now is lying ready by the gates ;
Nor rvitli one but with ten keels.
sliip alone,
Raised from his subject kings and commonweals.
“ But now the
Gods, taking 3'our swift return
Aw'ay from yet will not let you die
j'ou, ;
But bid 3'ou, taking heart, turn presently

Unto tlie northern shore of this fil sea ;
Tliercby a mighty river shall ye be.
Along whose sides dwell the Sarmatian folk,
Knowing no arts, untaught to Ijear the yoke
Of equal laws into this river’s mouth
;
Straight must ye enter, and forget the south,

And many unkno\s-n lands and unknown seas,
And deadly forests, vocal with no breeze.
Shall ye go wandering through ; but, long time past.
Unto the seas ye know shall come at last.
" And so, by many troubles being tried.
Unto lolchos shall ye all come back
Except some few nor there find any lack
;
Of much-desired weidth and babbling praise.

And so each man depart unto such days
As tlic fates grant him. be they good or ill,
With death at last according to their will.”
With these last words she vanished quite away,
And these, left floating on tliat dauai of day,
Felt severed utterly from hoped-for things
Like some caged eagle that, with fluttering wings,
Beats at liis bars, beholding far away
His windy 03^0 up the mountain grey.
— A Wilde ago, and every' man nigh saw
Tire long white walls rise sunn3' without flaw
From out the curled white edges of the sea ;
Yea, almost felt as if they well might be

In fair lolchos tliat same afternoon.
And now how many and many a glittering moon
Must fill her horns up, while tlieir lives were spent
In imknowTi lands 'mid helpless dreariment 1
But as his fellows, speechless and amazed,

iltieft/V n't <r,The Dnieper ; in Greek, Borysthenes. The route is
apparently then hy the Pripet tnlmtary, and an overland track
to the Vistula, .and along tlie Visbila to the Baltic Sea. In
Apollonius Rhodius the route ivas \na the Danube to the
Aclriatic, up the Po and across
to the Rhone, dono the Rhone
into the mediterranean, and
then by a arcuitous course home,
SannManfol^^Âsiatic race in South Russia.

Upon the wearj'' sea so stood and gazed,

Spake Jason to them “ Heroes,
: tell me where
Your hearts are gone, since helpless thus 3'e stare
On that which helpeth not ? in no such wise
A while ago, before AJetes' eyes
Ye smote the Colchian ship wdth other heart
;
Ye drave the dark blue Clashers far apart.

“ mat ^vlll ye ? Is it then so hard a thing
That we, through manj' countries wandering.
Shall see unheard-of things, nor fail to come
\^Tien 3'et our blood is warm, back to our home .
Be merry, think upon tlie lives of men.

And with what troubles threescore years and ten
Are crowded oft, yea, even unto him
^Vho sits at home, nor fears for hfe and limb.
But trembles the base slave unto a slave ;
Or holding trifles he is fain to save.

Sits pleasureless and wearing out his life.
Or mth vain words wages disgraceful stnfe
That leads nowhither, till forgotten death
Seizes the babbler, choking out his breath.
— —
“ But ye forgot all get ye to the oar.
And steer rejoicing to the northern shore,
Since we shall win such glory and renovm.
That, coming home again to our fair town.
Those left behind shall count us all for lords.
And tremble, gazing at our sheathed swords.
Fair is the wind, the sunny dawn is clear.
Nor are we bound for Pluto’s kingdom drear.
But for fair forests, plentiful of beasts.
Where, innocent of craft, with joyous feasts
The uuse folk live as in the golden age.
Doubt not at all that they will welcome us
As very Gods, wth all things plenteous.
So spake he, knowing nought of that same land ,
Natheless, the}', noting him as he did stand

Beside Erginus with tmclouded face.
Took heart aqain, and to the oars apace
They gat and toiled, forgetting hrllf the word
Thai from gri-at Argo’s sprite ere now tliey heard,
Ror thinking of the ills that they might meet,
But of the day when their retuniing feet
Should bear them full of knowledge, wealth, and fame,
,
Up to the royal hall wherefrom they came.

Now northward Argo steered for two days more.
Until at last they came in sight of shore.
And creeping on, they found a river-mouth,
Tliat a long s]ut of land fenced from the south.
.^nd turned due west and now at ebb full strong
;
Turbid and yellow rolled its stream along.

That scarce could Argo stem it ; wherefore they.
It being but early, anchored till mid-day.
And as they waited, saw an eddy rise
Where sea joined river, and before their eyes
The battle of the waters did begin.
So seeing the mighty ocean best therein
Weighing their anchor, they made haste to man
Both oars and sails, and therewith plying, ran
With the first wave of the great conquering flood
Far up the stream, on whose banks forests stood.
Darkening the swirling water on each side.
And now between them swiftl}' did tliey glide.
And now no more they smelt the fresh salt sea.
Or heard the stead}' wind pipe boisterousl}'
Through the strained rigging, neither with their feet
Set ivide the pitching of their ship to meet
Went to and fro for all was quiet now
;
But gurgling of the stream beside the prow,

And flapping of the well-nigh useless sail.
And from the black woods some faint dismal wail,
Mflietlier of man or beast tliey knew not well.
It heitii: but curly.Note the extra syllable in the second foot. An
extra syllable in the line is very rare
with Morris.
4„dnoui sea. Note the very’ liglit, nnimpeded effect of a line
words unsliaded by acccnterl .and unaccented syl-
containinK
lables. It is fluid.
—
Find other examples they are myriad.
'
Then a melancholy fell.
o’er their hearts
And they began to think they might forget
The quest whereon their hearts had once been sot,
Now half accomplished, and aU wealth and fame.
All memory of the land wherefrom they came.
Their very names indeed, to wander on.
Unseen, miheard of till their lives were done.
In such-like thoughts they anchored for the
night.
Nor slept they much, still washing for daylight.
Then dawmed the day ; but like another night
Unto their wearied eyes it seemed to be.
Amid that solitude, w'here tree joined tree
For ever, as it seemed ; and nathelcss, they
Ran out the oars and gat them on their way
Against the ebb, and little help the flood
Gave them that day ; but j'et for bad or good
They laboured on, though still ^vith less intent
More hopeless past the changeless woods they w'ent.
But everj? day, more and more sluggishly
And shorter time, the w'ater from the sea
Ran up, and failed ere eve of the third da5^
Though slow'cr took the downward stream its way,
Growm wade and dull, and here and there tlie wood
Would draw aw'ay and leave some dismal rood
Of quagg}' land about the river’s edge,
Wicre ’mid tlie oozes and decaying sedge
There W'allow'ed ugly nameless dull-scaled things.
But swifter the next day the river ran
Witli liigher banks, and no\v the woods began
To be of trees that in tlicir land they knew'.
And into clumps of close-set beeches grew.
And oak-trees thinly spread, and there-between
Fair upland luilocks w’cll beset with green ;
And ’neatli the trees great herds of deer and neat.
And sheep, and swdne, fed on the herbage sweet.
Cattle.
loC) STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
So peeing now these beasts in such plenty,
It seemed good unto the Min}'a2
To make pro\i'ion thereof for their need.
So drawing Argo up through sedge and reed.
They made her fast, while divers took the land.
•And forth thc-y set. and noite of them had lack
Of spear or bow, or quiver at the back.
As through the land they went with waiy mirth,
For they rejoiced once more to feel the earth
Beneath their feet, while on their heads fell down
Tlic uncupped acorn, and the long leaves brown.
For on that land the sad mid-autumn lat'.
And earlier came the sunset day by day.
But now unto their hunting gave tliej' heed.
And of the more part happy was the speed.
And soon to Argo did they turn again.
Laden with that the}- had set forth to gain.
Of deer and beasts the slaughtered carcasses
Upborne on interwoven boughs of trees.
But, day being fully come, they loosed from shore.
And ’gainst the stream all bent unto the oar.
All day they toiled, and cverj' mile of way
Stillswfter grew the stream, so on that day
Few leagues they made ; and still tire banks were fair.
But rising into scarped cliffs here and there.
Till sleep fell on them, and the watch alone
Waked in that place, and heard the distant moan
Grow louder as the dead night stiller grew.
And fuller of all fear, till daylight drew
A faint wan streak between tire thinner trees.
And in their yellowing foliage the breeze
Made a new sound, that through their waking dream
Like to the surging sea well-nigh did seem.
But the full day being come, all men awake.
Fresh hold upon the oars began to take,
Minycc. Kote the forced rhjTne. Can you find another
Pleiily,
example ? ^ -
the river.
Distant moan^ Of a fall on
Stemming the stream, that now at evety mile
Swifter and shallower ran, and in a while
Above all noises did they hear that roar.
And saw the floating foam borne past the shore ;
So but ten leagues they made upon that day.

And on the morrow, going on their way,
They went not far, for underneath their keel
Some once or twice the hard rock did they feel.
And looking on ahead, the stream could see
WTiite with the rapids : therefore warily
Some mile or two they went at a slow pace
And stayed their course where they beheld a place
Soft-sloping to the river ; and there all.
Half deafened by the noises of the fall
And bickering rapids, left the ashen oar.
And spreading over the well-wooded shore
Cut laying on full many a stroke,
rollers,
And made a capstan of a mighty oak.
And so drew Argo up, unth hale and how,
On to the grass, turned half to mire now.
Thence did they toil their best, in drawing her
Beyond the falls, whereto being come anear.
They trembled when the3' saw them for from sight
;
The rocks were hidden by the spray-clouds white,

Cold, wretched, chilling, and the inight};^ sound
Their heavy-laden hearts did sore confound ;
For parted from all men thej' seemed, and far
From all tlie world, shut out bj' that great bar.
Moreover, when with toil and pain, at last
Unto the torrent’s head they now had passed.
They sent forth swift Aitalides to see
What farther up the river there might be.
Who going twenty leagues, another fall
Found, with great cliffs on each side, like a wall,
But ’twLxt the two, anotlier unbarred stream
Joined the main river ; therefore did they deem,
Bickenngt Brawling.
Hale and hmo, TJie liauling cry.
story forms FROM morris
I'tJl.Ms from
ArRo il',:, I-"

''
.Wwliat he.iviiv
Still oiuv'iM1 P‘it

tov.-.-ird tlic
v.'hiter :\nd tiic liorth'
tiuuK xr
Jljot toilinVaJilH,!"? tlicl tlicv speed along. _
Kut tlic third tale and ?ong

The mountainsnoonr^f. them .anear
For now they turn^'i'
sn...
certain prief their fear
Come from a caveru f ''"‘T'-’''*’" IFown swift but deep
Then ’mid the dm.-,? * "? mountain steep.
And up his
liftin.jT ‘ÎRI Jason stand,
right and left Mim-re,
\liere dwell u;"°;
but ^
Look rather to beasts men alone ?
U.at hoa?
Pierced with tl.c '‘".Sgod stone,
road (
T hell this north.
TWe ®
fS Iôarin’^f-'^'-^m nms forth.
Tins golden bands
hard-won m?,-,?
Tet since not death
Shall 've not reach
it bears*^\°V!^ lands.
thereb^tto“‘ things.
The whole w'orld round rings
Sunny Eubcea, and fair and? shift to reach
Before lolchos, havinelostJ?. ^
Of all our gains ? else he?,^'
TiU hunger slays us on som^ "®
Or wander tiU our raiment e^-U??^
So spake he, setting courage awn?
falls
in H,?'
To tr3^ the unknown dark, aifd to
^ gat them swiftly, and th?y
And, deftly steered,
strSk^h?^*®
from out the sunligh^'*^?^^
:

Into the cold bat-haunted cavern low,
And, thrusting out with poles, made shift to go
Against the stream, that with a hollow sound
Smote Argo’s stem. Then Jason, looking round.
Trembled himself, for now, indeed, he thought.
Though to the toiling heroes he said nought
“ ^^^ât do we, if this cavern narrows now.
Or over these burrowing waters flow.
falls
And drive us back again into the sun.
Cursing the day this quest was first begun.
Or somewhat traps us here, as well it may.
And ends us all, far from the light of day ? ”
Therewith he bade them light the torches up.
And to the mountain Gods to pour a cup.
And one unto the river Gods, and pray.
That they might come into the light of day,
^Vhen they had pierced the mountain through and
through.
So from the torches trains of sparkles flew.
And strangely flashed their arms in that dark place,
And white and haggard showed each anxious face
Against those dripping walls of unknown stone.
But now in Jason’s hand the cup outshone,
FuU of red wine, pressed by the Grecian sea.
And lifting high his hand, he cried "Oh ye.
:
Both Gods and n3'mphs who in this ufild land

dwell.
In hiU or river, henceforth may ye tell
How through your midst have passed the Minyse ;
And if, ye helping, the cold northern sea

We safely reach, and our desired home.
Thither tlie fame and fear of you shall come.
And there a golden-pillared house shall stand.
Unto our helpers in this savage land.
Nor when we reach the other side of this
Grim cavern, due observance shall ye miss.
For whatso on the teeming plain we snare.
Slain with due rites shall smoke before you there.”
no STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
So spake he, and twice poured the fmânt wine ,
But thc\% well-pleased to have the gift divine.

And noting well his jiroraiscs, took heed
Unto his prayers, and gave the heroes speed. _
Then Jason straightway bade more torches light,

And Argo pushed along, flared through the night
Of the dank cavern, and the dull place rang
With Grecian names, as loud the heroes sang.
For hope had come into their hearts at last.
So tlirough the winding cave three daj's they passed.
But on tlic fourth day Ljaiceus gave a crj',
Smiting his palms together, who could spy,
Far off, a little white speck through the dark.
As when the ’lated traveller sees the spark.
Of some fair-lighted homestead glitter bright,
But soon to all men’s eyes the joyous sight
Showed clear, and with redoubled force they pushed
S\vift Argo forth, who through the water rushed
As though she longed for daylight too and air.
And so within an hour they brought her there,
And on the outer world the sun shone high,
For it was noon ; so mooring presently,
On the green earth they clean forgot their pain.
Fox joy to feel the sweet soft grass again.
And there for joy about their heads they twined
The yellow autumn flowers of the field.
And soôw were they hcEiled
of untimely
By godlike conquering wine ; nor yet forgot
Their promise to the Gods, but on that spot,
Of turf and stones they built up altars twain.
And sent the hunters forth, and not in vain ;
For Atalanta, swifter than a man.

Areas, and mighty Theseus, overran
A white high-crested bull, and tough cords threw
'
About his horns, and so by main force drew

where the knife
The great beast to the altars,
Ofwse Asclepius ended his hot life.

And there they feasted far -into the
night.
. LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON Ill
-out when tlieir toil the next returning light
Brought back to them, they gat unto tlie oar.
While Jason anxiously scanned either shore.
Full many a league upon that day thej^ made.
And the next day the long oars doum the}' laid,
For at their back the steady soutli-west blew.
And low anigh their heads the rain-clouds flew ;
Therefore they hoisted up their sail to it.

And idle by the useless oars did sit.
Watching the long wave from their swift sea-plough
Sweep up the low green bank, for soothly now,
A pebble ill-thrown by a stripling’s hand
From Argo’s deck had lighted on the land ;
And yet far inland still they seemed to be.
Nor noted aught to teU them of the sea.
(Then Argus, in a dream, learnt from the messenger Iris

that the Argonauts must cross overland from the south-
flowing river they had ascended to the north-flo\ving
.
Vistula, and bear Argo with them on a wheeled platform.
A rainbow at dawn betokening the truth of the dream,
they mounted their beloved ship on a stage that took
twenty days to build, in which time they dressed them-
selves, against the winter cold, in the sluns of animals.
Yet now they knew not what course to steer.
Again Iris came to the rescue. She appeared to Argus
hunting in the woods, and directed him the way they
should go. In camp he passed the word on to Jason.)
So at the cables toiled all men that day

In bands of twenty, and strong shoulders bore
The unused yoke,-and laboured very sore.
But neither was the heavenly word in vain.
For as the yew-clad hiU tliey drew anear
The grey-eyed keen Messenian could see clear.
From the bare top of a great ashen-tree,
Tlie river nmning to the nortliem sea,
Had lighted^ Would have alighted.

Messenian, Lynceus, son of the king of Messene in the Peloponnesus*
1 12 STORY POiiMS FRO>T ^fORRiS
Showing dull and lu-avy 'gainst the snow
all ;
And when the joyful tidings they did know.

Light grew their hearts indec<l, and scarcely less
Thev joyed than he who, lying all helpless
In dreary prison, sees his door opc wide
And half forgotten fnends stand by his side.
So (311 the tenth day through the pass they drew
Tlieir strange ship-laden wain, and came unto
A deep dark river, their long-promised road :
Tlien from the car they slipped its heavy load.

And when safe in the stream the keel had slid,
They with strong axes tlicir own work undid.
And to the Goddess a great altar made
Of planks and bciuns foursquare and thereon laid
A white wild bull, and barley cake,--, and spice,
Not sparing gold and goodly thingn of price ;
And fire being set thereto, and all things done

That they should do, by a faint mid-daj’ sun.
Seaward they tumed, and some along tiic shore
With lightened hearts the hempen tow-ropes bore,
And some on Argo’s de.ck abode their turn.
Now the next da}- the great oak-wood they reached.
And as the Goddess bade them, there they beached
Their sea-beat ship, on which from side to side
Tliey built a roof against the snoMw tide.
And round about her, huts wherein to dwell,
Wlien on their heads tlie full mid-winter fell.
And round the camp a wooden wall they made.
That by no men or beasts tliey might be frayed.
Meanwliile the frost increased, and the thin snow
From off tire iron ground the mnd did blow.
And in the cold dark stream, from either bank
The ice stretched forth ; but by night and day.
By firelight passed the snowy time away.
Forgetting not their fathers, or the time
When all the world still dwelt in equal clime.
Frayed, Made afraid.
; ,
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON

But eacli to each amid the wine-cups told
Unwritten, half-forgotten tales of old.
BOOK XII
Ten weeks they bode there, longing for the spring.

And to the hearts of some the thought would cling
That thus they should be tiU their hves u'ere past.
And into hopeless bonds that land was cast
But on a day the wind, that rose at noon.
Died not at night, and the white, sharp-edged moon.
Just as tlie west had given it to sight.
Was hidden from the watchers of the night
By fleecy clouds, and tlie next dawn of day
Broke o’er the Minyai colourless and grey.
With gusts of fitful wind ’twixt south and east.
That with the day grew' steadier and increased.
Until a south-west gale blew o’er the snow.
And northward drove the steel-blue cloucp and low.
Now in few days the sun shone out agam,
Tlie waters drew from off the flooded plain.
And all was bnght and soft as it might be.
Though bank-high rolled the river to the sea.
Made perilous wuth trees and heavy_ drift
Natheless on rollers Argo did they lift.
And drew' her toward the stream in spite of ah
Tlie ills they saw, and chances that might > .
And there they launched her, being now most lam

Once more to try tlic green and shifting plain.
Therefore witli joy they shouted, w'hcn once more
They felt great Argo move, and saw the shore
Keep changing as they swept on tow'ard tlie sea.
With cheerful hearts still rowing steadity ;
For now tlic ashen oars could tliey thrust forth

Into the widened stream, that tow'ard the north
Kan swiftly, and thenceforward day by daj'
Toiling, they made full many a league of way.
t2,SCS) 8
1 14 STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Nor did the}’ scu gjeat hills on cither hand,
Wien they had fairly passed the woody land
wiierc they abode the winter ; neither heard
ITie sound of falls to make their hearts afeard,
But through great woods the gentle river ran,
And plains where fed the herds unowned of man.
So tlirough all this the weaned Minyre
Were drawing nigh unto the northern sea.
And marshier grew the plain as on they went.
And eastward the still-widening river bent.
Until one day at eve, with chilling rain.
The north wind blew across the marshj* plain
Most cold and bitter, but to them as sweet
As the rose-scented zcphjnr those do meet
Wio near tlie happy islands of the blest
For as upon their eager brows it pressed,
Tltey sniffed withM the odour of tlie sea.
And going on a mile, they seemed to be
Witliin some eddy rippling languidly.
And when the stream they tasted tliat went by
Tlieir shielded bulwark, better was the draught
Tlian any wine o’er which a king has laughed.
For still it savoured of the bitter sea.
So fell the night, and next day joyously
They met tlie full flood, whose first toppling wave
Against tlie sturdy prow of Argo drave.
And with good heart, as ’midst the sweeping oars
It tossed and foamed, and swept the muddy shores,
Tliey toiled, and felt no weariness that day.
But though right well they gat them on their way.
They failed ere dark the open sea to reach
But in tlie night the murmur of the beach.
Tormented by the changeful dashing seas.
Came to tlieir ears upon the fitful breeze.
Then sore they longed for dawn, and when it broke
Again the waters foamed beneath their stroke.
Dram. Why is it more teUing here than “ drove ” ?
) ;

they had gained that river’s utmost reach,
Till
from the sea by a low sandy beach
^^^lich
Was guarded well, all but a little space,
Hirough which now rushed, in headlong, foaming
race.
The huddled waters of the flowing tide.
So there the Hinyai thought it good to bide
And wait the ebb, dreading some hidden bank.
But as they waited thus, udth hearts that burned
To try the sea, the tide grew high and turned.
And seaward through the deepened channel ran
In gentle ripple ’gainst the breakers wan.
Then thither gat the jo3'ous Minyie
And shouting, drave out Argo to the sea.
(Tlien passed they through the straits from the Baltic
Sea into open ocean, and all might then have been
tlie
well rvith them; but a south-east gale ansing, Mgo
lost sight of land, and the heroes began to fear lest they
should pass into a drear northern ocean,
" circling sea that rings the world.
Beyond the
doivn a bottomless abyss be hurled.”
And
At length, through the intervention of Medea, the wind
changed about, and they joj'fully ran out the oars and
hoisted sail
They toward the south with good hearts ’_gan to go.

While they felt the favouring north wind blow.
still
And the third day again they saw the land.
That in white cliffs rose up on the right hand
Coasting whereby, they came into a strait.
Or so they deemed, for as the day grew late.
Beneath a frosty hght-blue sk}”^ and cold
Another country could they now behold
WhUe cltffs, Of Dover. Tliey coast along to the Cornish peninsula.
Note the utterly amorphous construction of the sentence, that
reads as if undommated by any particular clause or clauses.
This stjle carries one easily along, if dreamily.
As, Because
ii6 STORY POEMS FROM jrORRIS
Dim o’er the glittering pea ; but in the night
They by the moon past the high clifi and white
Ceased not to sail, and lost the other shore
When the day broke, nor saw it any more,
As the first land they coasted, that changed oft
From those high cliffs to meadows green and soft,
And then to other cliiYs, some red, some grey.
Till all the land at noon of the fourth d:fy
They left astern, sailing where fate might lead.
Of sun or stars scarce taking any liccd :
Such courage in tlicir iiearts the W'hite-armcd set.

Since, clad in gold, was Peli.as h\'ing yet.
But to the Gods now did thej' sacrifice
As seafarers may do, and things of price
Gave to tlie tumbling billows of the sea,
'Diat for their lives cried out hungrily ;
still
And though for many days they saw noshore,
Y'et fainted not their hearts as heretofore.
For as along the pathless plain they went.
The white-foot messenger the Goddess sent,
Wio unseen whispered in the helmsman’s ear.
And taught him how the goodly ship to steer
And on a time it chanced as the day broke,
And to their life the longing Minjê woke.
Across the risen sun the west wind blew
A thin light rain, tliat He, just shining through.
Showed to them all the many-coloured sign ;
Then to tlie Goddess did they pour out wme.
Right glad at heart ; but she the livelong day
By Argo’s prow flew o’er the shifting way
Unseen of all, and turned them still to land
And as they went the Thracian’s cunning hand
Stole o’er the harp-strings tiU Arion’s steeds
The White-armed, Juno. The Goddess, Juno, who sends Iris.

He, The sun. ^yany-cohured sipt. The ramhow^
AriotCs siccdSf Polpluns. Sailors tnea to lall and rob Anon, a poet
of the sixth century b.c., while he was at sea ; he jumped
overboard, and a dolphin bore him on its back to land.
,

Gat them from ’twixt the tangled water-weeds,
And lifted listening heads above the sea,
And sea-birds, pensive with the harmony.
About the mast, above the singer hung.
With quivering wings, as from full heart he sung :
“ O death, that maketh life so sweet,

O fear, ^vith mirth before thy feet.
What have ye yet in store for us.
The conquerors, the glorious ? ,
" Men say :For fear that thou shouldst die
'
To-morrow, let to-day pMs bv

Flower-crowned and singing ;
yet have we
’
Passed our to-day upon the sea.

Or in a poisonous unknown land,
With fear and deatli on either hand.
And listless when the day was done
Have scarcely hoped to see the sun
Dawn on the morrow of the earth.
Nor in our hearts have tliought of mwth.
And while the world lasts, scarce again
Shall an}’ sons of men bear pain
like we have borne, yet be alive.
" So surely not in vain we strive
Like otlicr men for our reward ;
Sweet peace and deep, the chequered sivard
Beneath the ancient mulberri’-trees,
The smooth-paved gilded palaces,
Mdiere the sh}' thin-clad damsels sweet
Malce music with their gold-ringed feet.
The fountain court amidst of it,
Wliere the short-haired slave maidens sit,
WTiile on the veined pavement lie
The honied things and spicery
Their arms have borne from out the toun.
" The merchant-town’s fair market-place,
Wdicre over many a changing face
The pigeons of the temple flit,
ii8 STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
And stiU the outland merchants sit
Like kings abor’c their merchandise,
Ljdng to loolish men and wse.
Ah !they heard that \vc were come
if
Into the bay, and bringing home

Tliat which all men har'e talked abotit,
Some men with rage, and some with doubt.
Some with desire, some with praise ;
Then would the jxiople throng the ways,
Kor heed the outland merchandise.
Nor any talk, from fools or wise,
But tales of our accomplished quest.
" WTiat soul within the house shall rest
When we come home ? The wily king
Shall leave his throne to see the thing ;
No man shall keep the landward gate.
The hurried traveller shall wait
Until our bulwarks graze the quay,
Unslain the milk-white buU shall be
Beside the quivering altar-flame ;
Scarce shall the maiden clasp for shame
Over her breast the raiment thin
The mom that Argo cometh in.
“ Then cometh happy life again
That payeth well our toil and pain
In that sw’eet hour, when all our woe
But as a pensive tale we know.
Nor yet remember deadly fear ;
For surely now' if death be near.
Unthought of is it, and unseen
When sweet is, that hath bitter been.”
So sung the Thracian, and the rowng-folk

Sent Argo quivering ivith the well-timed stroke
Over the green hills, through great clouds of spray.
And as they went upon their happy way
Outland, Foreign.
About the deck the longing men would stand

With \vistful eyes stiU. gazing for the land ;
^^dlich yet they saw not, till the cool fresh night
Had come upon them, with no lack of light.
For moon and stars shone brightly oveihead,
Nor through the night did Iris fail to lead
The wave-tossed Argo o’er the glittering sea.
So as the moon set, did there seem to be
Upon their larboard, banks of high-pded cloud.
Which from their sight tlie last dark hour did shroud.
Then came the t^vi]lght, and those watchers fain
Against the eastern light beheld again
The clouds unchanged, and as the daylight grew,
Lynceus cried out “ Some land we draw unto
:
.
Look forth, Erginus, on these mountains

If thou, perchance, hast seen them ere to-day
Therewitli all turned about, and some men
ran
To hear what words the God-begotten man
Would say, who answered “ L5mceus, and all ye.
:
Most surely now I see the Iberian land

That ’gainst the shore of Africa doth stand,
To break these mighty billows, ever pressed
Each against each from out tlie landle^ west.
So ivith glad hearts all men his bidding did.
And swiftly through the water Argo shd, _
Till as the sun rose were they near the strait.

At whose mouth but a little did tliey v'ait
Till they had eaten, pounng honied lyine
Unto the Gods, then biding no new sign.
They cried aloud, and running out tlie oars.
They swept great Argo midmost ’twuxt the shores
Of either land, and as her gilded prow
Cleft the new waters, clean forgotten noiy
Grew allthe wasteful washing of the main.
And clean forgotten the dull hopeless pain.
iMrboardf Port side ; left. God-bcgotUn, Son of Ncptnne.

Iberian land, SpaiQ. Slraii, Of Gibiraltar.
120 STORY POEIIS FROJI JIORRIS
In the great swirling river left so long,
And in all hearts tlie mcinorj' was strong
Of the bright Grecian headlands and the bay
They left astern upon a glorious day.
BOOK XIII
Tiirek days they sailed, and passed on the tliird day

A rock -bound coast upon their left that la}',
But on the morrow eve made land again.
Stretched right ahead across the watery plain,
Wiercto ere nightfall did they draw aiiear.
And so lay-to till dawn with little fear ;
For from the shore a light, soft land-\v’ind blew.

But as the dead night round about them drew.
The ceaseless roar of savage beasts they heard,
Mingled with sounds like cries of men afeard.
And blare of horns, and clank of heavy chains,
And noise of bells, such as in moonlit lanes
Rings from the grey team on the market-night.
And with these noises did they see a light,
Tliat seemed to light some crown of palaces.
Shining from out a grove of thick-set trees.
Then did the Minya; doubt if they were come
Unto some great lung’s well-adomcd home.
Or if some temple of a God were there.
Or if, indeed, the spirits of tlie air
Haunted that place so slowly passed awaj'
:
The sleepless night, and at tire dawn of day

Their longing eyes beheld a lovely land.
Green meadows rising o’er a yellow strand,
WeU-set ndth fair fruit-bearing trees, and groves
Of tliick-leaved elms all populous of doves,
rfe 6ny, The Gulf of Pag.Tsa!.

A rock-botind coast, Probably south Sardinia.
Made land, Italy.
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON I2I
And watered by a wandering dear green stream ;
And through the trees they sarv a palace gleam
Of pohshed marble, fair beyond man’s thought.
There, as they lay, tlie sweetest scents were brought
By sighing winds across the bitter sea.
And l^guid music breathed melodiously.
Steeping their souls in such unmixed delight,
That hearts were melted, and aU dim of sight
They grew, and scarce tlieir hands could grip the oar.
And as the5' slowly neared the happy shore
The young men well-nigh ivept, and e’en the wise
Thought they had reached the gate of Paradise.
But ’midst them stood Medea, and thoughtfully
Gazed landward o’er the ripple of the sea,
And said no word, tUl from her precious tilings
She drew a casket fuU of chains and rings.
And took therefrom a chaplet broivn and sere.
And set it on her head : and now .being near
The yellow strand, high on the poop she stood.
And said “ 0 heroes, what has chilled 3mur blood.
:
That in such wise ye gaze upon tliis land

With tearful eye, and nervdess, langmd hand.
And heaving breast, and measureless desire ?
Be wise, for here the never-dying fire.
The God-begotten w'onder, Circe, lights.
The ivise of w'omen, framer of delights
That being of man once felt, he ne’er shall cease
To long for vainly, as the years increase
On his dulled soul, shut in some bestial form.
“ And good it had been that some bitter storm
Were tossing Argo’s planks from sea to sea.
Than ye had reached tliis fair land, but for me.
Who amid tears and prayers, and nameless pain,
Ar.d waJered . . . clatr green stream. Note the onomatopcoia,Md
tne
the I’re-Raphaehtc effect of primary colour. Note also
cunning use of vpwel-changc.
Chaplet sere. Withered wreath of leavxjs.
T^rful eye . desire. Example of climax
Circe, A sorceress who lived on the island of Alea.
122 STORY POEMS FROM iMORRIS
Some little wisdom have made shift to gain :
L<X)k fortli uiK>n the green shore, and behold

Those many beasts, all collaretl with fine gold.
Lions and pards, and small-C3 ’ed restless bears.
And tuskdd boars, \\ ho from hneas\' lairs
Are just come forth nor is there 'mongst them one
:
But once wallêd upnght undemeatli the sun.

And had tlie name of man such shall j-c be,
•
If from the ship \'e u ander heedlessh’.

But safelj- 1 my kinswoman maj' meet.
And learn from her the bitter and tlie sweet
That waits us ere yc come to Greece again,
And see tlie u ind-swept green Thcssahan plain.
" Meanwhile, let nothing tempt \-ou to the land.
Nor unto anj-tliing stretch forth the hand
That comes from shore, for all \-c inaj' Sec tliere
Are but lost men and their iind'oers fair.”
But with that word thej' furrowed the wet sand.
And straight thej’ ran the gangivay out to land,
O'er which, with girded raiment, passed the queen ;
But now another marvel was there seen.

For to the shore, from mam- a glade and lawn,
The golden-coUarcd sad-cyed beasts were drawn
In close-set ranks above die sea-beat shore.
And open-mouthed, with varying moan and roar,
Mdiite-foot Medea did tliej'’ seem to threat
Mdiereat the Minj-a; on their bow-strings set
The notches of their arrows, but the maid
Turned round about, witli cahn face unafraid
And said “ O lilinyre, lay your weapons down.
;
Nor fear for me ; behold tliis cliaplet brown,

MTiose withered leai'es rest lightly on mv head.
This is the herb that Gods and mortals dread.
The Pontic Moty, the imchanging charm.”
Kins-xoman, Circe was sister to iEetes.
Pontic Holy, A fabulous magic herb rvith white flower and black
root. In Homer, Ulysses protected himself with moly from the
charms of Circe. Pontus, a country bordering the Black Sea.
;

Then up the beach she passed, and her white arm
This way and that the leopards thrust aside.
And ’mid the grisly swine her limbs did glide ;
And on a lion’s mane her hand she laid ;

But still with moans they thronged about the maid.
As she passed onward to tire palace white.
Until the elm-groves hid her from the sight.
Then they with fearful hearts did sacrifice
Unto the Gods in their seafaring wise.
M^nwhile Medea through the tliick-leaved grove
Passed underneath the moaning of the dove,
Not left by those strange beasts until at last
;
Her feet from off the sparse long grasses passed

Unto a sunny space of daisied sward, ,
From which a strange-wrought silver grate did guard

A lovely pleasance, set witli flowers, foursquare.
On three sides ending in a cloister fair
That hid tlie fair feet of a marble house,
Ccir\'ed thick with flowers and stories amorous.
So there Medea stayed a little space.
Gazing in wonder through the silver rail
That fenced that garden from the wooded vale
For damsels wandered tliere in languid wise
As though they wearied of that Paradise,
Their jewelled raiment dragging from its stalk
The harmless daisy in their listless walk.
The men entrapped, Medea saw them lead
Into tlie dark, cool cloister, whence again
They came not forth, but four-foot, rough of mane,
Uncoutli witli spots, and dangerous of claw.
But when tire sad-eyed beasts about her saw
These draw towards tlicm, and beheld the gate
Open and shut, and fellows to tliat state
New come, they whined, and brushing round her leer.
Prayed for return unto that garden sweet.
Their own undoing once tliat yet shall be
.Deatli unto many a toiler of the sea,
Pie^sntiu, ricasure-groiind attached to a mansion.
Because all these outside the silver gute
Were men indeed, though inarticulate,
And, spite of seeming, in none othcrv.isc,
Did longing torture tJiem, than when in guise
Of men they stood before tluit garden green,
And first their eyes tlie baneful place had seen.
But now tlie queen grew wratli, for in her way,
Before tlic gate a yellow lion lay,
A tiger-cat her raiment brushed aside.
And o’er her feet slie felt a serpent glide.
The swine screametl loud about heri and a pard
Her shining shoulder of her raiment bared
Witli light swift clutch ; then slic from off her head
Took the sere nioly WTcath, and tJicrewitli said
" Wliat do ye, tvaetches ? Icnow ve not this sign.
That whoso wears is .as a tlung divine ?
Get from tliis place, for never more can VC
Become partakers of the majesty
That from man’s sotil looks Uiroiigh his eager eyes.
—
Go ^wail that over yc were made so wise
As men are made ; who chase tlirough smooth and
rough
Their own undoing, nor can hat'e enough
Of bitter trouble, and entangling woe.'"'
Then slowl}' from her did those monsters go.
In varied voices mourning for their lot
And that sweet poison ne'er to be forgot.
But straight mth serious face the Colcliian maid
Her slender fingers on tlie latchet laid
That held the silver gate, and entered in ;
And tlirough the darkling corridor she passed

And reached a huge adorned hall at last,
M^cre sat alone the deathless sorceress.
Upon whose loieos an open book did press,
\%erein strange things the Gods knew not she read ;
A golden vine-bough ivreathed her golden head.

Smiling, she puttlie wondrous book away
As the light footsteps fell upon her ear.

She raised her head, and when the queen drew near.
She said “ 0 wanderer from sea to sea,
;
I greet thee well, and dear thou art to me :
hut since indeed the Fates w'Ul have it so.

Take heed thou dost the things I bid thee do.
And first, since thou wouldst have me purify
Your hands of his blood that tliou sawest die
Twixt yellow Phasis and the green-ridged sea.
Behold, this is not possible to mo.
Nor ever must another altar stand
this green nook of the Italian land.
To aught but me, no, not unto my Sire ;
But unto him shall ye light ruddy fire,
when, drawing nigh to your desired home.
Unto the headland of Malea ye come ;
And tlien, indeed, I bid ye not to spare

Spices and golden things and raiment fair.
But to the country folk give things of price.
And from them talce wherewdth to sacrifice,
A hundred milk-white bulls, a hundred kine.
And man3f a jar of unmixed, honied wine.
And, crowned with olive, round the ^tars sing
Unto the God who gladdens everything.
Thy father’s father, tlie all-seeing Sim.
And then the deed thj' Jason’s spear has done
Mayst thou forget, it shall not visit thee.
Moreover, sailing hence across the sea,
A waste of jêllow sand shall ye pass by
’Neatli tlie Trinacrian cliffs, whereon shall he
Fair women, fairer than thine eyes have seen.
And if thou still wouldst be a Grecian queen.
When to that deadly place jê draw anear.
And sweetest music ye begin to hear.
Bid your bold love steer Argo from the land,
Wiile Thracian Orpheus takes his harp ui hand.
Stre, Apollo, god of the sun.

Trtnacrtaii, SiciUan,
,
i2f) STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS

And sings thrrcto some God-delighting strain,
And surely else sluill all your toil be vain,
For deadlier than my gardens arc those sands.
“ But, doing as I bid, M;dea reach,
And after, niah lolcho,-. Argo beach.
Yet at the city haste yc not to la.nd.
For still the sceptre presses PeJias’ hand,
And iEson is at rest for evermore ;
Bid then tliy folk lurk by some wooded shore.

And to the white-waiicd city str.ugiilly wend
Thyself alone, and safely there make end
Of the king’s life nor need 1 teach thee how.
;
For deep unfailing wiles thy soul doili Icnow.”

So said she, and thereat the Colchian maid
Turned from lier fair face shuddering and afraid,
With beating heart, and flushed face like the rose
That m the garden of Damascus grows,
And catching up her raiment, hurried through
The mighty hall, where thick tlie pillars blue
Stood like a dream to hold the roof aloft.
Then, the grove passed, she made good speed to
reach
The edges of tire sea, the wind-swept beach ;
But as she ran, afar the heroes saw
Her raiment fluttering, and made haste to draw
Their two-edged swords, and their strong bows to
string,
Doubting that she was chased of some dread thing ;
And Jason leapt ashore, and toward her ran,

And \vith him w'ent the arrow-loving man.
The wse Arcadian, and the Minyai
Got ready shielded Argo for the sea.
But ere these met her. with uplifted hand.
She cried “ Turn back, nor deeper in this land
;
Thrust ye your souls nought cliases me but fear.

;
And all is well if on the sea we were ;

The arrouflovitis ntait, Areas.
127
Yea, if free from fear and
we once were spell,
^
Ilien, truly,
better were all tilings than well.
Thereat they stayed, but onward still she ran
Until she reached them, and the godlike man
Took by the arm, and hurrying hmi along,
Mayed not until their feet were set among
Tte last faint ripples of the gentle sea,
Wherefrom they boarded Argo speedily,
^d Jason bid all men unto the oar.
BOOK XIV
Now o’er the open sea they took their way,
Lor three days, and at dawning of the day.
Upon the fourth, saw tlie Trinacrian shore,
And there-along they coasted two days more.
Then first Medea warned them to take heed.
Lest they should end all memory of their deed
Where dwell the Sirens on the yellow sand.
And folk should think some tangled poisonous lana
Had buried them, or some tumultuous sea
O’er their white bones was tossing angrily ;
Or that some muddy river, far from Greece,
Drove seaward o’er the ringlets of tlie fleece.
But now, nigh even on the second daJ^
As o’er the gentle waves they took their way.
The orange-scented land-breeze seemed to bear
Some otlier sounds unto the listening ear_
Than all day long they had been hearkening.
The land-bom signs of many a well-known thing.
Thereat Medea trembled, for she knew
That nigh the dreadful sands at last they drew.
For certamly the Sirens’ song she heard.
Though yet her ear could shape it to no word.
And by their faces could the queen behold
How sweet it was, although no tale it told.
To those worn toilers o’er the bitter sea.
I2S STORY POETilS FRO:.I MORRIS
Now, as they spod along, they presently,
Roundinc; a headland, reached a little ba\’
M’alled from the ~,"a by splintered cliffs and gre}*.
Capped by the tiiyniy ht!k' green wind-beat head
M^hcrc 'mid the whtn the burrowing rabbits fed.
And ’ncath the chit they saw a waste of sand,
’Twixt Xereuh’ pasture and the hich scarped hand,
Mliereon, yet far oil, could their eyes; behold
M’hile bodie-. moving, crowned atid girt with gold
AVherefrom it seemed that lovely music v.'cllcd.
So n'hcn :>J] tin-, the groy-e}’ed queen beheld.
She said :
“ U J.^-on, 1 have made thee wise ’
In this and other things : turn ilien thine eyes

Seaward, and note tlte npple of the sea,
Wdiere there is hope as well as fear for thee.
Nor look upon tin- death that lurketh there
’Neath the grc\' ciitf. though sweet it seems and fair
For thou an young upon this day to die.
Take tiien the helm, and gazing steadily
Upon the road to Greece, make strong thine hand
And steer us toward tlic lion-haunted land :
And thou, O Thraciim if thou e’er hast moved
!
JIcn’s hearts with stories of the Gods who loved,

And men who suffered, move tlicm on tliis day.
Taking the deadly love of death away.
That even now is stealing over them.
Wdiilc still the}" gaze upon the ocean’s hem,
Wdicre tlieir undoing is if they but knew."
But while she spake still nigher Argo drew

Unto tlie yellow-edges of the shore.
And little help she had of ashen oar.
For as her shielded side rolled through the sea,
Silent witli glittering eyes the Minyaj
Gazed o’er the surge, for they were nigh enow,
Y'ea, nigh enow to sec their
red lips smile,
Ncrcits,Son of Ocean his pasture is the sea.
Ltoii'kaitnUd Jctstd, Africa^
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON rsg
\Vherefrom aU song had ceased now for a while,
As though they deemed the prey was m the net,
And they no more had need a bait to set.
A moment Jason gazed, then through the waist
Ran swiftly, and with trembling hands made haste
To trim the sail, then to the tiller ran.
And thrust aside the skilled Milesian man.
Who with half-open mouth, and dreamy eyes.
Stood steenng Argo to that land of lies ;
But as he staggered forward, Jason's hand
Hard on the tiller steered away from land.
And as her head a little now fell off
Unto the wide sea, did he shout this scoff
To Thracian Orpheus “ Mmstrel, shall we die.
:
Because thou hast forgotten utterly

What things she taught thee that men call divine ?
Or will thy measures but lead folk to wine.
And scented beds, and not to noble deeds ?
Or will they fail as fail the shepherd’s reeds
Before the trumpet, when these sea-ivitches
Pipe shrilly to the washing of the seas ?
I am a man, and these but beasts, but thou
Giving these souls, that all were men ere now,
"
Shall be a very God, and not a man !
So spake he ; but his fingers Orpheus ran

Over the strings, and sighing turned away
From that fair ending of the sunny bay ;
But as his well-skilled hands were preluding
What his heart swelled -with, they began to sing
With pleading voices from the yôw sands.
Clustered together, with appealing hands
Reached out to Argo as she turned away
While o’er their white limbs flew the flakes of spray,
Smce they spared not to set white feet among
The cold waves heedless of their honied song.
Mtlestan vian, Erginus
She . . . ihai men call divine. Calliope, chief of the Muses ; mother
of Orpheus.
( 2, 888) 9
130 STORY POEMS FROM .MORRIS
Swc'ctly they 'sing, and still die answer came
Piercing and clear from him. as bursts the flame
From out the furnace in the moonless night
Yet, as dieir words are no more knoini aright
Through lapse of many ages, and no man
Can any more across the waters wan
Beliold those singing women of the sea,
Once more I pray you all to pardon me,
If with my feeble voice and harsh I sing
From what dim memories may chance to cling
About men’s hearts, of lovely' things once sung
Beside the sea, while yet the world was yoimg.
The Sirens
O happy seafarers are ye.
And surely all your uls are past.
And toil upon tlic land and sea.
Since ye are brought to us at last.
To you the fashion of tlie world.

Wide lands laid waste, fair cities burned.
And plagues, and kings from kingdoms hurled.
Are nought, since hither ye have turned.
For as upon this beach we stand.

And o'er our heads the sea-fowl flit.
Our eyes behold a glorious land,
And soon shall ye be kings of it.
Orpheus
A little more, a little more,
O Golden
carriers of the Fleece,
A little labom: wththe
the oar.
land of
Before we reach Greece.
mediieval minstrel reciting the story

. 1 pray you, i.e. The
prays you.
;

E’en now perchance faint rumours reach
Men’s ears of this our victory.
And draw them down unto the beach
To gaze across the empty sea.
But since the longed-for day is nigh,

And scarce a God could staj' us now,
^Vhy do ye hang your heads and sigh.
And still go slower and more slow ?
The Sirens
All, uiU ye go, and whither then
Will ye go from us, soon to die,
"R) fill your threescore years and ten.
With many an unnamed misery ?
And this the wretchedest of all,

That when upon your lonely eyes
The last faint heaviness shall fall
Ye shall bethmk you of our cries.
Come back, nor grmra old, seek in vain
To hear us sing across the sea.
Come back, come back, come back agam,
Come back, O fearful Jlmyse 1
Orpheus
Ah, once again, ah, once again,
The black prow plunges through the sea,
Nor yet shall all your toil be vain.
Nor 3'e forgot, O Minjâi.
In such wise sang the Tliracian. in such wise
Out gushed tlie Sirens' dcadl}' mdodies
But long before the mingled song was done.
Back to tlie oars the Mmj're, one by one.
132 STORY POEMS FROM IÎORRIS
though man}' an one sighed sore,
Slunk silcntlj’ ;
As his strong fingers met the wood once jnore,

And from his breast the toilsome breathing came.
But as they laboured, some for very shame
som
Hung down their heads, and j'ct amongst them come ^
Gazed at tlie place whence that sweet song had

But round the oars and Argo’s shielded side
The sea grew white, and she began to glide
Sunft through the waters of Uiat deadly bay
But when a long wake now bcliind her lay.
And still the whistle of the wind increased.
Past shroud and mast, and all the song had ceased,
Butes rose up, the fair Athenian man.
And with wild ejês betwixt the rowers ran
Unto the poop and leapt into the sea ;
Then all men rested on tlieir oars, but he

Rose to the top, and towards the shore swam fast
Wiile all eyes watched him, who had well-nigh past
‘The place whore sand and water ’gan to meet
In ^vreaths and ripples round the ivory feet,
MTien sunburnt sw'immer, snow-white glancing limb,
And yellow sand unto their eyes grew dim.
Nor did they see tlieir fellow any more.
But toward the south a little now they bent.
And for a while o’er landless sea they went.
But on the third day made another land
At dawn o{ day, and thitherward did stand ;
And since the wind blew lightly from the shore.

Somewhat abeam, they feared not mth the oar
To push across the shallowdng sea and green.
That washed a land the fairest they had seen,
WTiose shell-streivn beach at highest of the tide
length of the ship.
Abeam, At right angles to the
Africa.
A land. Northnear The d^pt.on is of the Garden of the Hes-
perides, the Atlas Mountains. The Hesperides are three
nymphs who watch over the golden apples that Juno gave
Tupiter on their wedding-day.
-*
tide.
'Xlxc
*
An error, as there is practically no tide m the Mediter-
ranean
;

'Twixt sea and flowery shore was nowise \vide.
And drawn a little backward from the sea
There stood a marble wall wrought cunningly,
Rosy and white, set thick with images.
And overtopped \vith heaw-fruited trees,
^Vhich by the shore ran, as the bay did bend.
And to their eyes had neither gap nor end ;
Nor any gate and looking over this.

:
They saw a place not made for earthly bliss.

Or eyes of d5dng men, for gro%ving there
The yellow apple and the painted pear.
And well-filled golden cups of oranges
Hung amid groves of pointed cypress trees
On grassy slopes the twining vine-boughs grew.
And hoary olives 'tuuxt far mountains blue,
And many-coloured flowers, like a cloud
The rugged southern cliffs did softly shroud ;
And many a green-necked bird they saw alight

Witlrin the slim-leaved, thorny pomegranate.
That flung its unstrung rubies on the grass.
And slowly o’er the place the wind did pass
Heavy with many odours that it bore
From thym5' hUls down to the sea-beat shore.
Because no flower that all the 3'car.
tlierc is,
From spring to autumn, bcareth otherwhere.
But there it flourished nor the fruit alone
;
From 't^vixt the green leaves and the boughs outshone.

For there each tree was ever flowering.
Nor was there lacking manj' a li\ung thing
Changed of its nature, for the roe-deer tliere
Walked fearless with the tiger ; and the bear
Rolled slccpilv' upon tlie fruit-streuTi grass.
Letting tlie conies o’er his rougli hide pass,
”«, Mortal. . . „ , i
Xhf yelloip efpir . * . Note the ix*nrTn pamtea efieet ; anti
thisei<:tmcUcin of the avtrsj items ciiiefl}' by thdr colour, or
their shspe.
Comes, Rabbits.
With bUnIdng eyes, tliat meant no treachery.
Cirelcss the partridge passed the red fox by
Untouched the serpent left the thrushes brown,
And as a picture was the lion’s frowTi.
But in the midst there w-as a grassj' space,
Raised somewhat over all the flowerx' place,
On marble terrace-walls wrought like a dream
And round about it ran a clear blue stream.
Bridged o’er witli marble steps, and midmost there
Grew a green tree, whose smooth grey boughs did
bear
Such fruit as never man elsewhere has seen.
For 'tAvixt tlie sunlight and the shadow green
Shone out fair apples of red gleaming gold.
Moreover, round the tree, in many a fold,
coiled a d.ragon, glittering httle less
I..ay
Than that Avhich his eternal watchfulness
Was set to guard : nor yet Avas he alone.
For from the daisied grass about him shone
Gold raiment Avrapping round, tAvo damsels fair,
And one upon tlie steps combed out her hair.
And Awth shut eyes sung low as in a dream ;
And one stood near her in the cold blue stream.
Not long she stood, but looking seaward yet,
From out tlie Avatcr made good haste to get.
And catching up her r;ênt hastily.
Ran up the marble stair, and ’gan to cry
" Wake, O my sisters, Avake, for noAV are come
The thieves of /Ea to our peaceful home.”
Meamvhile, from Argo many a sea-beat face
Gazed longingly upon that lovely place,
And some their eager hands already laid
Upon the gangAvay. Then Medea said
" Get back unto the oars, O Minyae,
Nor loiter here, for Avhat have such as Ave
To do herein, Avhere, ’mid undying trees.
Undying Avatch the ivise Hespendes,
And where the while they watch, scarce can a God
Set foot upon the fruit-besprinkled sod
That no snow ever covers ? therefore haste.
Nor yet in wondering your fair lives waste.’’
She ceased, and little soothly did they gneve,
For all its loveliness, that land to leave.
For now some God had chilled their hardihead.
And in their hearts had set a sacred dread.
They knew not why ; but on their oars they
hung,
A little longer as the sisters sung.
" 0 ye, who to tliis place have strayed.
That never for man’s eyes was made.
Depart in haste, as ye have come.
And bear back to your sea-beat home
Thismemory of the age of gold,
. And for your eyes, growm over-bold.
Your hearts shall pay in sorrowing.
For want of many a half-seen thing.
" Lo, such as is this garden green.
In days past, all tlie world has been.
And what we know all people knew.
But this, that unto worse all grew.
“ But since the golden age is gone.
This little place is left alone.
Unchanged, unchanging, \vatched of us.
The daughters of uase Hesperus._
" Let earth and heaven go their way,
YTiile still we watch from daj’’ to da}',
In this green place left all alone,
A remnant of the days long gone.’’
There in the wind tliey hung, as word by word
The clear-voiced singers sUenUy they heard ;
But when the air was barren of their song,

Anigh the shore tliey durst not linger long.
136 STORY POEMS FROJr .MORRIS
So northward turned forcwcaricd Argo’s head,
And dipping oars, from that fair countrj' sped,
Fulfilied of new desires and iK-nsive thought,
Whicli tljat day’s life unto their hearts had brougnt.
Tlicn hard tlicy toiled upon the bitter sea.
And in two days tlicy did not fail to be
In sight of land, a headland liigh and blue,
MTiich straight MilesLan Erginus knew
To be the fateful place which now they sought,
Stonny Malea, so thitherward they brought
'fire groaning ship, and, casting anchor, la3'
Beneatli tliat headl.and’s lee, witliin a baj',
Wdierefrom the more part landed, and their feet
Once more the happy soil of Greece did meet.
Tlicrcwith they failed not to bring ashore
Rich robes of price and of fair arms good store.
And gold and silver, tliat they there might buy
WTiat yet they lacked for tlieir solemnity ;
Tlien, while upon tire highest point of land

Some built an altar, Jason, with a band
Of all tlic chiefest of the Minya:,
Turned inland from the murmm: of the sea.
Not far they went ere by a little stream
Down in a valley they could see the gleam
Of brazen pillars and fair-gilded vanes,
And, dropping down by dank dark-wooded lanes
From off the liillside, reached a house at last
Where in and out men-slaves and women passed.
And guests were streaming fast into the hall,
Wlrere now the oên boards were laid for all.
With these the Minyae went, and soon they were
Within a pillared hall both great and fair.
Where folk already sat beside the board,
And on the dais was an ancient lord.
But when these saw the fearless Miny®
o/. Filled full erf. .
Pair-gilded vanes, etc. This is a medicoval, not a Greek, touch.
i37
Glittering in arms, they sprang up hastily ,
And each man turned about unto the wall

; then through
To seize his spear or staff the hall
Jason cried out ; “ Laconians, fear ye not.
Nor leave the flesh-meat while it yet is hot
For dread of us, for we are men as ye.
And I am Jason of the Mmyze,
And come from JEa. to the land of Greece,
And in my ship bear back the Golden Fleece,
And now we pray to share your wne and bread.
And other things we need, and at our hands ^
That ye wfll take fair things of many lands.

“ “ be welcome here.
Sirs,” said the ancient lord,
Come up and sit by me, and make such cheer
As here ye can glad am I tliat to me
;
The first of Grecian men from off the sea

Ye now are come.”
So when all folk %vith this were satisfied.

Back went the Minyae to the water-side.
And with them that old lord, fain to behold
Victorious Argo and tlie Fleece of Gold.
And so aboard amid the oars he lay
^
Throughout the night, and at the dawn of day
Did all men land, nor spared that day to wear
The best of all they had of gold-^yrought gear.
And every one, being croivned \vith ohve g'-êy.
Up to the headland did they take their way,

Vêre now already stood the crowned pnests
About the altars by the gilt-homed beasts.
There, as the fair sun rose, did Jason break
Over the altar the thin barley-cake.
And cast the salt abroad, and there were .
The milk-white bulls, and there red wne did ram

On to the fire from out the ancient jar,
XMCotuans, Inhabitants of Laconia, the southeniinost
country m
Greece
Gear, Apparel (archaic)
I3S STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
And high rT>?o, up the nxl flame, seen afar
From many another headland of that shore,
And Uirough its fitful cnickling and its roar.
From time to time in pleading song and prayer.
Swept bj' the wind about the summer air.
Clear nmg thevoices of die Minya:
Unto the dashing of the conquered sca,_
Tliat far below Uirust on by tide and wind
Tlie crumbling bases of tlic headland mined.
BOOK XV
But on tlie morrow did the Minym
Turn Argo’s head once more to Thessaly.
And surely now the steersman knew his way.
As island after island everj' day
They coasted, with a soft land-uind abeam ;
And now at last like to a troubled dream

Seemed all the strange things they had seen erewhile,
Now when they knew tlie very' green sea's smile
Beneath tlie rising and the setting sun.
And their return tliey surely now had won
To those familiar tilings long left behind,
VTien on their sails hard drave tlie western wind.
Now at the entering of their own green bay
Tliere lies an island tliat men call to-day
Green Cicynetlius, low, and covered o’er
With dose-set trees, and distant from the shore
But some five furlongs, and a shallow sea
’Twixt main and island ripples languidly.
And on the shore tliere dwells not any man
For many a mile so there Erginus ran
;
Argo disguised, and steering skilfully.

Cast anchor ivith the island on his lee ;
Hid from tlie straits, and tliere struck sail and mast
Then to the island shore the heroes passed.
And Nvith their \vide war-axes ’gan to lop
Full many a sapling with green-waving top
And full-leaved boughs of spreading maple-trees,
And covered Argo's seaward side with these.
And then the shipmen did Medea bid
To hold a shallop ready, while she hid
Her lovely body in a rough grey gowm
And heavy home-spun mantle coarse and brown.
And round about her a great wallet slung. ^
Then, being ready, to the prince she said

all
.
“ 0 well-beloved, amongst our foes I go

Alone and weak, nor do I surely know
If I shall hve or die there ; but do thou
Keep a watch ever, who from off the prow
Shall look towards white lolchos o’er the bay.
And watching, wait until tlie seventh day.
And if no sign thou hast from me by then.
Believe me slain at hands of wicked men.
Or shut in some dark prison at the least,
Wdiile o’er head thy foe holds royal feast.
my
There\vith from him she turned her face divine,
And reached the shallop over Argo’s
That o’er the shallows soon began to glide.
Driven by arms of strong Eurydamas ;
But when thekeel dragged on the rank sea-|gass.
She stepped ashore, and back the hero turned
Unto his fellows, who, with hearts that burned
Unto the quays to bring great J^go's stem.
And gain the glory that was waiting them.
Watched ever for the sign across the bay.
Till nigh the da\vning of the seventh day.
But from the shore unto a thick-leaved \TOod

Medea turned, drawing both cloak and hood
Right close about her, lest perchance some man.
Some hind, or fisher of the water wan.
Hind, Farm-liand.
Sliould wonder at her \'i!>agc, that indeed
Secined of that wTctchcd weed-
little wortli}^
{Having entered the wood, she anointed herself

magic liquor, pale green of hue. And lo on her !
she becaro
‘
lolchos, a fearful change came over her :
withered old hag. Wearied out, and sitting down

co
a fountain, she was accosted by an ancient crone,
for water, who asked her what she was. ,.j.i,nrn
Medea told her she had come lliithcr from a
land, where she liad learnt how by magic art to
old man young again. The crone thereupon ^dwsed,^
to carry the story nc.vt day to the daughter of old Aiud
Pelias.)
" I tliank thee, mother,” said the Colchian maid,
" Nor of kings’ daughters shall I be afraid.”
(As she led Medea to the palace, the crone told her hon’
Pciias, believing tlic Argonauts perished, had slain old
.ffison, " with all liis house who at lolchos were.”)
With that they came unto the ro3'al house

Wliere Pelias dwelt, grown old and timorous,
Opiiressed wdth blood of those that he had slain,
Desiring wealth and longer life in vain.
So there a court low-built the old crone sought.
And to her lodging the tired Colchian brought,
Where she might sleep, and gave her food and drink.
Then into sleep did ndse Medea sink.
At length she woke, and felt the morning air
Cold on her face, because the ancient crone
Over her couch the casement had undone.
And as she oped her eyes, she heard her say :
“ Awake, O guest, for yet another day

We twain must bear before we gain our rest.
But now indeed I think it to be best
That to my ladies I alone should show
MTiat prayers, and rites, and wonders thou dost
know.
^Tiich thou wait tell for gold ; for sure I deem
Hiat to us djdng folk nought good dotli seem,
But hoarding for the years we shall not see
hide thou there, and I will come to thee
^
And bring thee word of what the queens may say.
. Then udth these words she went upon her way,
udule in her place alone Medea sat,
WiUi eager heart, thinking of this or that,
^d udshing that the glorious day were come,
When she should set her love within his home,
A king once more. So ’mid these tlioughts, tliere came
Back to the place the udse Tliessalian dame,
Wio bade her rise, and after her to go,
that she those marvels to tlie queens might show.
Tliercmth she brought her to a chamber where
*^hode the royal maidens slim and fair,
doing well-remembered works of whom ;
uTute-armed Alcestis sat before the loom,

^sting the shuttle s^vift from hand to hand,
the wlule Eradne’s part it was to stand
Amongst the maids who carded out tlie wool
^d fiUed the gleaming ivorj' shuttles full.
Amphinome, meantime, her golden head
Bent o’er the spinners of tlie milk-white tliread,
^d by the growing web still set aside
manj'-coloured bundles newly dyed.
Blood-red, and heavenly blue, and grassj' green,
i oa, and more
colours tlian man yet has seen
In Jfewery meadows midmost of the May.
„ to the royal maids the crone 'gan say :
Behold the woman, O mj' mistresses,

'''ho 'midst tlie close-set gloomy nortlicm trees
She Admetus, King of

men an oraclemarried
hifer
declared he could not bo M>-ed from a
unless one of his friends died m s
Alccslis of
offered herseU. This is the subject of the
Eunpidcs.
Cnrifcrf,
Combed
142 STORY POEMS FROM JfOKRIS
Has late leanicd that I told you of ; and yo
Wlio in this royal house live happilj',
Jlay well desire life for evermore,
Which unto mo were but a burden sore.'’_
Therewith she left them, but folk say, ,
Tliat she who spoke wiis nought but Saturn’s seed,

In veri’ likent'ss of that woman old,
WTosc body soon came on, dead and cold,
folk
M’ithin the place where she was wont to dwell.
Now how these tilings may be, I cannot IcU,
But certainly Queen Juno’s ivill was good
To finish that which, in the oaken wood
Anigh the Centaur's cave, she first began.
Giving good heart to the strange-nurtured man.
But, she being gone, fair-limbed Amphinome

Said “ Reverend mother, welcome here ye be.
:
And in return for thy so hard-earned lore

Tliat thou wilt teach us, surely nevermore
Shalt thou do labour wliilst thou dwellest here,
But unto us shalt thou be hef and dear
As though thou went the best of all our blood.”
But, pondering awhile, Medea stood,
Tlicn answered : ” Lady, I am now grown old,
And but small gift to me were heaps of gold.
But take me now unto the mighty king
That rules tliis land, and there by eve^hing
That he holds sacred, let him swear to me
Tliat I shall live in peace and liberty
Till quiet death upon my head is brought
But tliis great oatli being made, things shall be
wrought
By me, that never can be paid vdth gold ;
For I will make that young which has groivn old.

And that alive that ye have seen lie dead."
Saturn’s seed, Juno.
Siraftg^'fiiirtur/^d, Broug\it up away from home •'.c, Jasom
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON I43
Then much they wondered at the words she said.
And from the loom'did fair Alcestis rise,
And tall Amphinome wnthdrew her eyes
From the fair spinners, and Eradne left
The carding of the fine wool for the weft.
Then said Eradne “ Mother, fear not thou.
;
Surely our father is man enow.

good
And will not harm thee : natheless, he will swear
By whatsoever thing he holdeth dear,
Nor need’st thou have a doubt of him at^^.
”
Come, for he sitteth now ivithin the hall
But when they reached the place, glittering and
§a.y
With all the slain man’s goods, and saw the lung
Wearing his royal crown and mystic rmg.
And clad in purple, and his weaned face.
Anxious and cruel, gaze from dison’s place,
A little thing it seemed to slay him_ there.
As one might slay the lion in his lair.
Bestrewn with bones of beast, and man, ^d maid.
Then as he turned to them, Alcestis said :
“ O lord and father, here we bring to thee

A wise old woman, come from over sea,
Mho 'mid the gloomy, close-set northern trees
Has heard the words of reverend Goddesses
I dare not name aloud ; therefore shp knows
Mhy this thing perishes, and that thing grows.
And what to unborn creatures must befall.
And this, tlie very chiefest thing of all,
To make the old man live his life again."
Now paler grew the king’s face at this word.
And ’mid strange hopes he, too, grew sore afeard.
As he began to think of da5's
sighing,
Now long gone by, when he was winning praise.
And thought : “ If so be I should never die.
Then would I lay aside all treacherj'.
Weft, Web.
And here should all folk live without alarm.
For to no man would 1 do any harni,
TOiatso might hap, but I would bring ngmn^
Tile golden age, free from all fear and pain.”
But througli his heart there shot a pang of fear.
As to the queen he said : “ Wliv art thou here,
Since thou hast mastered this afl-saving art.
Keeping but TOgrant life for tliine own part
Of what thou boastest with tlie Gods to share ?
Thou, but a drang woman, nowise fair."
“ PeUas," she said, “ far from tlie north I come.
But in Erectlieus’ city was my home.
Where being alone, upon a lucldess day.
By the sea-rovers was I snatched away.
Then had I savage masters, and must learn
With aching bade to bend above the queni
And tlierewithal must I dread manj^ a liand.
And
"
^\'ritho beneath tlie whistle of the whip.
'Mid toils like these my youth from me did slip,
Uncomforted, through lapse of wretdicd years.
Till I forgot tlie use of sobs and tears.
And like a corpse about my labour went.
Grown old before my time, and worn and bent
And then at last this good to me betid.
That m5 ''
know things hid
tvise mistress strove to
From mortal men,' and doubted all tlie rest.
Babblers and young, who in our fox’s nest
Dwdt through the hideous changes of the j’êar
Then me she used to hdp her, and so dear
I grew, tliat when upon her tasks she went,
Into all dangerous service was I sent.
“ Moreover, whether that, being dead to fear,
All tilings I noted, or that somewhat dear
I now was grown to those dread Goddesses,
I know not ; yet amidst the haunted trees
Erectheus’ city, Athens. Ewtheus was the sixth Idng, and died
1347 ,
Qumt, Hand-mill to grmd corn.
! :;

More things I learned than my old mistress did,
Yea, some things sinrely from all folk else hid.
But me indeed the whole house hated sore,
First formy knowledge, next that, sooth to say,
I. when I well
had passed my evil day.
And came to rule, spared not my fellows aught
YTiereby this fate upon my head was brought.
That flee I must lest worse should hap to me ;
So on my way unto the Grecian sea

Witli weary heart and manifold distress.
My feet at last tliy royal pavement press.
. My lips beseech tliy help, O mighty king
Help me, tliat I myself may do the thing
Imost desire, and tliis great gift give
To thee and thine, from tliis time fortli to live
In youth and beauty while the world goes by
With all its vain desires and miserj'.
“ And iftliou doubtest stUl, tlien hear me say
The words tliou spakest on a long-past day.
When thou wert fearful, and tlie half-shod man
Had come upon thee ftrough the water wan.”
She ceased awhUe, and therewith Pelias,

With open moutli and eyes as fixed as glass.
Stared at her, wondering. Tlien again she said
“ Awhile ago, when he thou knowest dead.
And he thou tliinkest dead, were bj' thy side,
A crafty wile tliou forgedst ; at that tide
Telling tlic tale of Theban Athamas,
And how that Phrjrxus dead at /Ea was.
Thinking (and not in vain) to light the fire
Of glorious deeds, and measureless desire
Of fame within tlie hearts of men o’erbold.
“ For tlius tliou saidst : ‘ So is the stor}' told
Of tilings that happened forty years agone.
Nor of the Greeks has there been any one
To set the bones of Pluyrxus in a tomb.
Or mete out to tlie Colchian his due doom.’
(S.S1S) 10
" So saidst thou tlieii, and by such words didst dri' e
Tliy nephew in a hoj'Kiloss game to strive,
Wlicreforc tliou deemest wisely he is dead,
And all tlic words that he can s:iy are said.’’
She ceased :ig:iin, while pale and shuddering,
Across his eyes the crafty, fearful kitig
Drew trembling hands. But j-ct again she spohe :
" \Miat if the Gods by me the strong chain broke

Of til}' past deeds, ill deeds wrought not in vain,
Atid thou with new desires hved again ?
Durst I still trust thee witli my new-gained life ?
M'lio for tlie rest am not thy brother’s wife,
1'hy nephew, or thy brotlier. Be it so.
Yet since the foolish hearts of men I know'.
Swear on this image of great Artemis
That unto me tliy puqwsc Iiarmlcss is.
Nor wilt thou do mo hurt, or more or less.
Then while tliy lips tlic ivory image press.
Will I caU down all terrors that I know
Upon thine head if thou shouldst break thy vow'.
" Yet for tliyself dost tliou trust what I say.
"
Or wilt tliou stiU be djdng day by day ?
''
Yea,” said tlie king, '' j'ea, w'hosoe’er tliou art.
Needs must I trust tlicc, in iviscsudi
3 heart
' m
Desires again when this is done.
life
Give me the image, O tliou fearful one.
Who know'cst aU my life, who in the brcatli
Wlierein tliou prayest lielp stiU tlircatenest death.”
Then on the image did she sw'ear the king.
But while he spoke was she still muttering,
Witli glittering eyes fixed on him ; but at last,
MTien from Ids lips tlie dreadful w’ord had passed.
She said “ O Kang, pray tliat thou mayst not die
:
Before the fiftli day's sun has risen high ;
Yet on to-ihorrow mom

shalt tliou behold
This hair of mine all glittering as gold,
Arfemis, Diana.
life and death of JASON i47
Mu fern planted on the ground,

y grey and shrivelled arms growm white and round,
s once,
when by Ilissus’ side I trod,
nare of beauty to a very God.”
T, “ttle did she ask unto her need,
. ,
cold water, and some fitting weed,
t>^ ® ^ close-shut place to be alone,
A eye must see the wonder done.
fair women, haste ye now,
*' **
Fa
.
j^pcely weaker every hour I grow,
-r,
^ IcM to die ere I can live again.”
Hen through the
house they hastened, and wdth pain
brazen caldron their fair hands bore up,
.wrought over as a king’s gold cup ;
A Cl
^ ^ well-hung chamber did they set,
filled with clear cold water, adding yet
cw raiment ivrought about wdth ruddy gold,
bd snowy linen wrapped in many a fold,
then did Hedea turn unto the three,
^bd said ‘‘ Farewell, for no more shall ye see
;
r nese
limbs alive, or hear this feeble voice,
cor either shall my
changM lips rejoice
niy bew beauty, or else stark and cold
ihis Wretched body shall your eyes behold.
^jt.bow until six hours are over-passed.
A
And if ye still shall find the door shut fast,
then let the men bring hammers, neither doubt
t hat tlience
my corpse alone shaU they bear out.
:“ut if the door is open or ajar.
Draw nigh and see how great my helpers are.
And greet what tlierc ye see 'witli little fear,
For whatsoever may have touched me here,
tiy then, at least, shall no one be wdtli me.
And nought but this old sorceress shall 5'e sce_
Grown young again ; alas grown young again ”
!
n ould God tiiat I were past the fear and pain !
JUssus, A small river in Attica.

So said the Colcliian but their fearful cj’cs
;
Turned hastily from such hid mystcriis

As there miglit lurk ; and to their bower they gut,
And well-nigh silent o'er the weating sat,
And did what things they needs must do that day,
Until that six hours' sixice had passed atray.
So now the royal sisters, sore afraid.
Each witli a taper in her trembling hand.
Before the fateful chamber-door did stand
And heard no noise whereon Ainphinomc
;
Pushed at the door that jaeldcd, and the three

Passing with beating beauts the oaken door.
Pressed noiseless feet upon the polished floor.
Reddening the moonshine with their tapers’ light.
There they beheld the caldron gleaming bright,
iVnd on tlic floor the heap of raiment rent
That erst had hid the body old and bent
And tlierc a ciystal phial they beheld
Empty, tliat once some wondrous liquor held ;
And by the window-side asleep they saw

The Colchian woman, white without a flaw
From head to heel her round arms by her side.
;
Her fair face flushed with sweet thouglits, like a bride.

And silently they stood, and wondered there.
And from tlieir hearts had flown aU thoughts at last
But that of living while the world went past.
Then at her feet Alcestis knelt and pra5'ed :
" Oh, who can see Goddess, unafraid

tliee. ?
Yet thou tliyself has promised life to us.
More than man’s feeble life, and perilous.
And if thy promise now thou makest vain.
How can we live our thoughtless life again ?
Then, would thou ne'er hadst left thine heavenly
‘
home,
meadows come ”
_
And o’er the green Thessalian !
" Young as ye see me.

Then spoke Jledea :
The Kang, your father, in few days shall be.

And when that he has gained his just reward.
;

Your Fves from death and danger will I guard.
Go therefore, but come hither with the sun
To do my bidding tlien shall there be done
;
Another marvel ere the mom comes round.
If J'et ye three are dwelling above ground.”
Then, trembling, they unto their chamber passed,
Lut, they being gone, she made the strong door fast.
And soon in deep sleep on the couch she lay
Until the golden sun brought back the day
Nor could she fail arising to be glad
That once again her own fair form she had.
And as the fresh air met her pleasantly.
She smiled, her image in the bath to see
That had been lost since at the noon she stood
Beside the still pool in the lonely wood ;
And she rejoiced her combed-out hair to bind.
And it was sweet about her ankles shm
To make the gemmed thongs of tlie sandals meet,
With rosy fingers touching her soft feet.
But she being clad, there came the ladies three,
^^Tô seemed by her but handmaidens to be ;
And such indeed they were, as dumb with awe
In the fresh mom that loveliness they saw.
Then said Medea : “ Fair queens well be ye !
Surely inhappy hour ye come to me.

Who, if I might, would do the whole world good.
But now take heed ; is there some close dark wood
—
Anigh the town ? thither will we to-night.
And in that place, hidden from all men's sight.
Shall ye see wonders passing human thought.
But thither by your hands there must be brought
Some ancient beast at very point to die.
That ye may see how loved an one am I
By dreadful Gods ; there, too, must ye convey
A brazen caldron ere the end of day, _
And nigh the place there must not fail to be

Some running stream to help our mystery.
Yet more, tate heed that she who helpeth me.
150 STORY ]’OEMS FROM JIORRIS
^\^lOSC name I name not, willeth not to sec
The robes and queens upon her slaves ;
of kings
Tlierofore, if ye would please tlie one who saves,
This night must ye be dad m smocks of black,
And all adornment miist your bodies lack,
Nor must there be a fillet on your hair.
And the hard road must feel your feet all bare.”
" Lady,” Eradnc s.aid, “ all shall be done.
Nor wilt thou yet have had beneath the sun
More faithfid servants than we arc to tlice ;
But wilt thou not the king my father sec.

And gladden him, that lie may gi\’e thee tilings
”
—
Such as the heart desires the spoil of kings ?
" Nay," said Medea, “ much have I to think
Ere the hot sun beneath the sea shall sink.
And much to call to mind, and for your sake
Unto my Helper many a prayer to make.”
With tliat they went, and she, being left alone/
Took up tlie image of the Swift-foot One,
Which for a hidden casket served her wdl,
And wherein tilings were laid right strange to tell
So this and tliat she looked at, and tlie wliile
She muttered charms learned in tlie river isle.
But at tlie noontide did tliey bring her food,
Saydng that all was ready in the wood.
And that tlie night alone they waited now,
Ere tmto tliem those mar\-els' she might show.
Therefore Medea bade tlicm come again
WTien all tlie house of peaceful sleep was fain.
And nought was stirring ; so at dead of night
They came to her in black apparel dight,
Bearing like raiment for tlie Colcliian,
Mdio did it on before their faces wan
And troubled ej'cs ; then out of gates they stole.
Setting their faces to the wished-for goal.
And on thej' passed, and soon tliey reached tlie wood,
Filkl, Head-band. Sai/i-foot One, Diana.
RtVCT %SlCf
: !

And straight made for the midst of it, where stood
An old homed ram bound fast unto a tree,
'Vhich tlie torch-bearer, tall Amphinome,
Showed to Medea, and not far therefrom
Unto a brazen caldron did tliey come.
Hidden witli green boughs ; then Medea bade
That by their hands a high pile should be made
Of fallen wood, and all else lit to bum ;
Which done, unto the caldron did they turn
And. bore it to the river, and did strain
Their fair round amis to bear it back again
MTien it was fiUed, and raised it on the pile ;
And then vdth hands unused to service vile
Lit up the fire, while Medea took
Dried herbs from out her wallet, which she shook
Into the caldron till at last a cloud
;
Rose up tlierefrom and tlie dark trees did shroud.

Then did she bid them the old ram to lead
Up to tlie caldron’s side, and wdth good heed
To quench his just departing feeble life ;
So in his throat Eradne thrust the knife,
Mliile in the white arms of Amphinome
And fair Alccstis, bleating piteously,
Fwbly he stnigglcd so being slain at last,
;
Piecemeal his members did the sisters cast

Into the seething water ; then drew back
And liid their laces in their raiment black.
The M’hilc Medea ’midst tlie flickering light
Stillsprinkled herbs from out her fingers white.
And in a steady voice at last did saj'
" O thou that tiimest night mto tlie day.
Hast thou a mind to help me on tliis iiight,
Tliat WTong may still be wrong, and right be nglit
In all men’s cyra ? .A little thing I »sk
Before I put an ending to my task."
Scarce had she finished, ere a low black cloud
Seemed closing o'er the forest, and rdoud
Medea cried *' Ohj strong and temblo
:
I fear thee not, do what may plojisc thoe well."
'Oien as the pale Thessalians with affright
Crouched on the earth, forth leapt the lightning white
Over their slirinking heads, and thcrewitlial
Tlie tliunder crashed, and down tlie rain did fall.
As though some angiy' deity were fain
To make a pool of tlie Thessalian plain.
Till in a while it ceased, and all was stilled
Except the murmur of some brook new-fille<l.
And dripping of the thick-leafed forest trees
As they moved gently in the following breeze.
Yet still King Pelias' daughters feared to rise,
And \\-itli wet raiment still the\f hid tlieir eyes.
And trembled, and white-armed Amphinome
Had dropped the long torch of the resin-trec,
That lay half-charrcd among tlie tall wet grass.
But unto them did wise Medea pass.
And said : “ O daughters of the sea-born man,
Rise up, for now the stars are growing wan.
And tlie grey dawn is drawing near apace
Nor need ye fear to see another face
Than this of mine, and all our work is done
We came to do."
Then slowl^^ one by one.
The sisters rose, and, fearful, drew anigh
The place where they had seen tlie old ram die ;
And there beheld, by glimmering t^^'ilight gre}^

Where on its side the brazen caldron lay,
And on the grass and flowers that hid the ground.
Half-charred axtinguished brands laji- all around.
But yet no token of the beast was there ;
But 'mid tlie brands a lamb lay, white and fair.
That now would raise his new-born head and bleat.
And now would lick the Colchian’s naked feet.
As close he nestled to her then the tliree
:
Drew nigh unto tliat marvel timidly.

exaggerated : an example
To make a pool of. This is or charred wood.
of hyperbole.
grands,Lumps of burning
; ,
i53
And gazed at him with \\dde eyes wondering.
Thereat Medea raised tlie new-changed thing
In her white arms, and smiled triumphantly,
And said " What things the Gods will do for me
:
Ye now behold take, then, tliis new-born beast.

;
And hope to sit long ages at the feast,

And this your jôuth and loveliness to keep
When all that ye have known are laid asleep.
Yet steel your hearts to do a fearful riling,
Ere tliis can happen ; for unto tlie king
Must your hands do what tliey have done to-night
To this same beast. And now, to work aright
What yet is needful to this myster}^
Will be four days’ full bitter toil for me.
Take heed that silence, too, on tliis j'e keep,
Or else a bitter har\'cst shall ye reap.”
So said she, wilHng well indeed to know.
Before tlie promised sign she dared to sliow,
MTiat honour Pelias in lolchos had.
And if his death would make folk glad or sad.
But at the last, she, mindful of tlie place

\Mierc lay fair Argo’s glorious battered keel.
And tliat dread hidden forest of bright steel.
Said to Eradne, when her food she brought
Upon riie sixth mom “ Sister, I have thought
:
How best to carry out tlie m 3'stery

That so dear at heart to thee and me.
is
And find that this night must tlie tiling bo done ;
So seek a place where we maj' be alone.
High up, and looking southward o’er the ba\'
Thither ere midnight must ye steal awa}'.
And under a liuge caldron set diy' brands.
-And that being done, take sharp swords m
your hanci.
And while I watch the sea and eartli and air.
Go ye to Pelias’ well-hung chamber fair ;
There what j'c will \'e mat* most sureh' do.
I counsel you."
If ye win work tlie way
Therewith a phial in her hand she set,
•\nd said
" Who tasteth this v.-ill soon forget
:
and dcatli. and for no noise will

wake
Both life
space therefore this phial takc.
In two davs’ ;
And with the king's dnnk sec ye mingle it.

As well ye may. and let hLs serv'ants sit
O’er wiiic so honied at the feast to-night.
Then certes shall their sleep not be so light.
That bare feet pattering across the floor.
Or unused creaking of an open door, _
Shall rouse them ; though no deadly drug

it is.
But bringer of kind sleep and dreamy bli^s.”

So with the midnight came the sisters three.
To lead her to a temple by the sea.
And in black raiment liad tlicy hurried tlicrc.
With naked feet, and unadorned loose liair.
E'en as the otlier night Medea bade.
Except tliat each one had a trenchant blade
deed.
Slung round her neck, wherewith to do tlie
So when all courts and corridors were passed,
Unto the ancient fane tliey came at last.
" Leave me alone.
Then spoke Medea and said :
And go and do that which were better done

Ere any streak of dawn makes grey tiie skj’.
And come to me when ye have seen him lie
Dead to his old life of misdeeds and woe."
Then voiceless from the torchlight did they go
Into tliedarkness, and she, left alone, .
(tet bv torches tUl tlie deed was done.

tlie
''
NouKlit else she saw for a long dreary' hour.
tilings lay asleep in bed or bower,
For all
mountain wves,
Or in the littie-lighted streams and topphng waves.
nr 'neath tlie Stirling
for m the eastern sky
She trembled tlien,
came, telling of tiie dawmng mgh,
A change
sirift footsteps
she began to pace
And iritli
;
i55
Behvixt the narrow limits of the place ;
But as she turned round toward the close once

Her eyes beheld the pavement by the door
Hid by some morung mass ; then jo3dully
She waved her wdiite anns toward tlie murmimng
sea,
And hstened trembUng. and although the sounu

Of breakers that the sandy sea-beach ground
hear
Was loud night, yet could she
in the stiU
Sounds like the shuffling steps of those that Dear
Some heavy thing, and as she gazed, could see
The thin black raiment of the sisters Hiree
Blown out, and falling backivard as tliey bent
Over some burden and right slowly w^nt
And ’twdxt tlieir arms could she behold the gl
Of gold or gems, or sHver-broidered seam.
Tin all ivas hidden by tlie undercroft.
And then she heard them strugghng bear alot
That dreadful burden, and then went to rneet.
With beating heart, their slow ascending
Taking a half-burnt torch within her hand.
There by its light did she behold tliem stan
Breathless upon the first stone of that fane.
And ivith no word she beckoned them again
To move on toward the terrace o’er the sea.
And, turning, went before tliem silently.
And so at last the body down they laid
Close by the caldron, and Eradne said :
“ O thou, our life and saviour linger not,

!
Wb pray thee now because our hearts are o

1
To see our father look with other ej'es _
Upon the sea, the green earth, and the skies,^^

And praise us for this seeming impious deed.
To the head Medea went, and vlth no wora
The white embroidered linen drew away
Over the face of tlie dead man that Jay
As though she doubted yet what thing it was.
crypt.
Undercroft, Enclosure underneath ;
150 STORY FORMS FROM MORRIS
AjkI p.aw indeed the face of Pelias.
ca
Ilien o'er her pale face a bright flush there
.
And, turning, did she set the torchte’ flame

Unto the dn,’ brands of the well-built ptfe.
And, standing back, and waving from the fire
llio shuddering girls, somewhat thereon she cast,
Like unto incense then with furious blast
:
Shot up a smokeless flame into the air.

Quivering and red, nor then did she forbear
To cry aloud, in her old Colchian tongue,
Proud words, and passionate, that strangely rung
Within the poor bewildered sisters’ cars.
Filling their hearts with vague and horrid fears.
BOOK XVI
But other watchers were tliere on that night,
Mflio saw birth of that desired light
tlie
From nigh green Cicynethus’ woody shore.
For in mid-channel tliere, with evcr3^ oar
Run out, and cable ready for tlie slip.
Did Jiôn hold his glorious storm-tossed ship,
Mfliile in the top did keen-eyed Ljmeeus stand.
And every man had ready to his hand
Sharp spear, and painted sliield, and grinded sword.
Thus as they waited, suddenly tlie word
Rang out from Jason’s mouth, and in the sea
The cable splashed, and straight the i\Iin5'£e
Unto their breasts the shaven ash-trees brought.
And, as the quivering blades the water caught,
Shouted for joy, and quickly passed the edge
Of Cic3methus, green ivith reed and sedge.
And whitening the dark ivaters of the bay.
Unto lolchos did they take their way.
Meanwhile the Colchian queen triumphantly
Watched the grey daivn steal forth above the sea.
Still murmuring softly in the Colchian tongue.
:
LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON i57

\Miile o’er her head the flickering fire hung,
And in the brazen caldron’s lips did gleam,
^^^lerefrom went up a great white cloud of steam.
To die above their heads in that fresh air.
But PeUas’ daughters, writhing m despair.
Silent for dread of her, she noted nought,
Nor of the dead man laid thereby she thought.
E’en as she watched, the keel had touched the sand.
And catching up her raiment her hand. m
She ran with speed, and in a tnce his hand
Had caught her slim vnist, and he shouted out
“ Ashore,
O heroes and no more have doubt
!
That all is well done which we wished were done

By this my love, by this the glonous one.
The saviour of my life, the Queen of Love,
To whom alone of all who arc above.
Or on the earth, viU I pour vine, or give
The life of anything that once did live.”
Then all men shouting, leapt forth on the sand.
And stood about them shield and spear in hand.
Rejoicing that tlicir mighty task was done ;
But as he saw the newty-risen sun

Shine on the towm upon their left that lay.
Then smiling joyously, did Jason say :
“ O heroes, tell me, is the day not wpn ?

Look how the sun’s rays now are stealing on.
And soon will touch that temple’s marble feet
^^'herc stood the king our parting keel to greet.
But tlic great golden image of the God
Holds up, unlightcd yet, his crystal rod,_
And surely ere the moon shall gleam on it
Upon myfather's tlirone his son shall sit.
Hedged round with spears of loyal men and true,
.Vnd all be done that we went forth to do.”
(Tlicn, bearing wiUi them the Golden l-leccc, and the
dead, bodv of Pehas, tlie Argonauts made solcnui cntiy
into tlie citv.)
I5S STORY POEJ!5 FROM MORRIS
Kow therefore when the gales were open wide,
Shouting the folk drew l>ack on either side,
A!! wild With joy :hut when they did behold
The high-raised Fleece of curling ruddy gold.
And the glad heroes’ mighty heads beneath.
And throned Jlcdea, witlt her golden WTcath,
And folded hands, and chiefest thing of all,
Tlic go<llikc man who went beside the jiall,
Wdiercon the boily of their tjTant lay,
Tlien did their voices fail them on that day.
And many a man of weeping there w'as fain.
At last did Jason set his foot again
Upon the steps of that same i\'oiy’ throne
Where once he fronted Pelias all alone.
And bare of friends but now he turned about.
;
And, ’mid the thimdcr of the people’s siiont.

Scarce heard his fellows’ spears and by his side
:
There stood his gold-adonied Colchian bride,

\Yith glad tears glistening in her sweet grey eyes
And dead, at end of foiled treacheries.
There lay his foe, the slayer of his kin.
Then did he clasp tlic hand that lay within
His mighty and sword-hardened fingers brown.
And cried aloud above the shouting towm ;
" Tell me, O people of my fatlier’s land.

Before whose ivory w'cU-wrought tlirone I stand,
And whose fair-tow'ered house mine eyes behold. "
Glittering witli brazen pillars, rich with gold ?
(In few w’ords did fie retail tlic story of tficir adventures,
and expose tfie evil deeds of King Pelias. Then fie con-
cluded :)
So have the Gods wrought but in no wise tvill I

;
Take seat beneath this golden canopy.

this land.
Before ye tell me, people of
Whose throne is this before tlie which I stand.
tow'ered house tliis is mine eyes behold.
Whose
—
;

”
Girt round ^vitll brazen pUlars, bright with gold
Then, ere he ceased, the people’s shout broke in
Upon his speech " Most glorious of thy km 1
—
:
Be thou our king ^be thou our king alone,

Tliat we may thmk the age of iron gone.
And Saturn come unth every peaceful thing :
”
Jason for king the Conqueror for king
!
!
And through tlie happy clamour of the folk.

At Jason’s bidding, tlie great trumpet broke.
And great Echion’s voice rang clear and strong.
As he cried silence ; then across the throng
Bid Jason cry : “ O people, tlianked be yc.
That in such wse ye give yourselves to me.
And now, O friends, what more is there to say
But tills ? Be glad, and feast this happy day,
Hor spend one coin of your own store for this
Nor shall tlie altars of the high Gods niiss
Their due thank-offering and She chief of all,
:
Wio caused tliat tliis same happy time should fall.

Shall have a tithe of all that 'longs to me.
"
And ye, O loved companions o’er tlie sea.
Come to my golden house, and let us feast.
Nor let time weary us tliis night at least - ;
G be so glad that tliis our happj' day

!
For all times past, all times to come may pay

Then, in such guise, they went triumphantl}'
To all tlie temples of that city fair.
And royal gifts the3' gave tlic great Gods there.
Therefrom unto his own house Jason crime.
He had not entered since the night his name
Rang 'twixt the marble walls triumphantlj'.
And all folks set tlicir licarts upon tlie sea.
ô, now again, when shadows 'can to fall
Still longer from tlie west, witlim that hall
0/ rVoH, Last of the four cite, into nluch the anciciits
“ihrj, broare. Iron,
ot tlio Argonauts.
iGo STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Once more the heroes sat alwvc their wine,
Once more they hearkened innsic nigh dinne.
Once more the maiden';' iloiver-scattering lianos
Seemed better prizes than well-peopled lands.
Glorious and royal, now tlic deed was done.
Seemed in that hull the face of every one,
Ml)o, 'twixt the thin plank atid the'bnbblingsca.
Had pulled the smooth oar-handle ptist his knefc.
But the next mom. for slaughtered .Eson's sake
The games began, with many a sacrifice.
And. these being all accomplished, gifts of price
The heroes took at Jason’s open hands.
And. going homewards, unto many lands
They bore tlie story of tlieir wandering.
And now is Jason mighty lord and king.
And wedded to tlie fairest queen on earth.
And with no trouble now to break his mirth ;
And, loved by all, happy, free from blame,

lives
Nor less has won the promised meed of fame.
So, having cvciy'tliing he once desired
Witliin the nild, ere yet his lieart was fired
By Juno’s word, he lives an envied man.
Having these things, that scarce another can.
Ease, love, and fame, and }muth tliat knows no dread
Of any horrors lurking far ahead
Across the simnj', flowered fields of life :
— Youth seeing no end unto the joyous strife.
And thus in happ3' da3's, and rest, and peace.

Here ends the wining of tlie Golden Fleece.
BOOK XVII
So ends the winning of the Golden Fleece
So ends tlie tale of that sweet rest and peace
That unto Jason and his love befell
Another story now my tongue must tell.
—
i6i
And tremble in the telling. Would that I
Had but some portion of that mastery
That from the rose-hung lanes of woody Kent
Through these five hundred years such songs have sent
To us, who, meshed within tliis smoky net
Of Unrejoicing laboiu:, love them yet.
And thou, O Master ! —
Yea, my Master stfil,
Whatever feet have scaled Parnassus’ hUl
Since, like thy measures, clear and sweet and strong,
Thames’ stream scarce fettered bore tlie bream along
Unto the bastioned bridge, his only chain.
0 Master, pardon me, if yet in vain
Thou art my Master, and I fail to bring
Uefore men’s eyes the image of the thing
My heart is filled wth thou whose dreamy eyes
;
Beheld the flush to Cressid’s cheeks arise.

As Troilus rode up the praising street.
As clearly as they saw thy totvnsmen meet
Those who in vineyards of Poictou withstood
The glittering horror of the steel-topped wood.
Ten years have passed, since in the market-place

The hero stood wth flushed and conquering face.
Masifry, Art,
Stick
skill. .
smgs. Those of Chaucer, who for some tune lived m
j •„ T.'nnt
iveni.
^his stjtoky net, London. Note Morris on his hobby-horse,
^ the Jhddle Ages, hatred of industrialism. ,
0 Master. GeoSrey Chaucer, bom in London, 134° (• ) >'
par
Yea, my Master . . . only chain. This must be trea^d as a
enthesis. omitting it, to discover the sequence of S
in the context.
, . ,
Whatever feet .. . /;iK, matever poets there have beem l
am^n -
a mountain in Phocis, scat of Apollo and the Muses, insp

poetry.
Bream, A ftesh-water fish. , ,
Bastioned bridge, London Bridge, originally on broad P“ A' ,
Cressid, Troilus, adef figures in Chaucer’s Trotius

patterns
talc of the Greek Cressida and the Trojan Troilus,
respectively of false and true love. , 01
Chaucer, page to the waie
,
Poictou, BatUc of Poitiers, 1356.
Lionel, Duke of Qarence, may have been present,
ll’ood. Spear-shafts.
(2, ESS)
11
i62 story poems from MORRIS
Ami life him like one hnpp3'
before i
But an hour thereof has passed awaj'

ni:in\'
In mingled trouble and felicitj’.
And now at Coriitth. kissed b\' citlicr sea,
He dwells, not governed now or governing.
Since there his kinsman Creon is a king.
And with him still abides the Colchian
But little changed, since o'er the watcr.stvan
She gazed upon the mountains that she knew
Still lessening as the phinging Argo llcw
Over the billows on the waj’ to Greece.
But in these ten sweet years of rest and peace
Two fair man-cliildren h:is she borne to him,
Wdio, joj-ous, fair of face, and strong of limb.
Full oft shall hear the glorious storj' told
Of Argo and tlic well-won Fleece of Gold.
And 'midst tliesc living things has'Argo found
A home hero also on tlie spot of ground
;
'Twi.xt Ncptime's temple and tlie eastern sea.

She looks across the waves unceasingly ;
And as their ridges draw on toward the land.

The udnd tells stories of the kingly band.
There, with tlie fixed and unused oars spread out,
She lies amidst the ghosts of song and shout.
And merry laughter, that were wont to fill
Her well-built hollow, slowly djdng still.
Like all tliatglorious company of kings
Who in her did such weU-remembered things.
(Jason, growing tired of Medea, and led on by Croon

proposes to wed Creon’s onlj' child. Glance, that he ma’
hirmelf one day become Idng. Medea, broken-hearted
turns again, in her desire for revenge, to tlie practice o
forgive, and sends to Glance
sorcery. She pretends to :
beautiful mantle to wear at her wedding. But to touci
Kinsmatt. Creon was son of Sisyphus, brother of Cretheus, Jason’

Pheres.
;

the clasp means fhe acluevement of hledea’s revenge. All
goes well until Jason arrives for the happy ceremony.)
Giddy with joy one moment did he gaze

^d saw his love her slender fingers raise
Unto the mantle’s clasp —the next the hall
Was filled with darting flames from wall to wall,
And hitter screams rang out, as here and there.
Scorched, and with outspread arms, the damsels fair
Rushed through the hall but swiftly Jason ran.
;
Grown in one moment like an old worn man.

Up to the dais, W'hence one bitter cry
He heard, of one in utmost agonJ^
Calling upon his once so helpful name ;
But when unto the fiery place he came.

Nought saw he but the flickering tongues of fire
That up the wall were climbing high and higher
^d on the floor a heap of ashes white.
The remnant of his once-beloved delight.
For whom his ancient love he cast away.
And of her sire who brought about that day.
Then he began to Imow what he had done.
And madly through the palace did he run.
Calling on Glauce, mingling wnth her name
The name of her that brought liim unto fame,
Colchian Medea, who, for her reward.
Had lonely life made terrible and hard,
Bj? love cast back, within her heart to grow
To madness and the vengeance wrought out now'.
(Distraught with grief, Jason attempted to sla,y him-

self, but was saved by an old crone, his nurse in past
times.) '
Tlien witli the crone did Jason go along.

And let her thin hand hold his fingers strong,
As though a child he w'ere in tliat old day.
Ere in the centaur’s woodland cave he la}'.
if, 4 STORY POEMS FROM :M0RRIS
distant
But through the house unto a ^ doom,
Dark-huni. she brought him. where,
f
SpcccWesshe lay. when she had brink
Some potion pressed from herbs
~he -
Of scarcc-knomi lakes of Pontus then
>
;
As she beheld at last his wcar\' head

Sink on the pillow " Jason, rest thee npw
;
nro
And may some kind God smooth thy wrmklcU
young,
Behold, to-morrow comes, and thou art
Nor on one string arc all life's jewels straing sti'
:
Thou shaft be great, and many a land shalt

,
And of thv coming life more jov shalt have

Than thoi hast thought of yet."
But as the far-off murmur of tlic birds

Tire townsman hears ere j'ct the mom is
late,
MTrilc streets are void and shut is everj’ gate ;
But still they sootlicd him, and he fell asleep,

\Mdle at his feet good watch the crone did keep.
But what a waking unto him shall be !
And what a load of diameful miserj'

His life shall bear His old love cast away,
1
His new love dead upon that fearful day,

Ciiiliess, dishonoiured, must his days go by.
For in another chamber did there lie
Two little helpless bodies side by side,

Smiling as tlrough in sweet sleep they had died.
And feared no ill. And she who thus had slain
the folk saw not again.
Those fruits of love,
was gone yet she died not,
Nor knew where she ;
•Rut fleeinE. somehow, from that fatal spot.

She ê to Athens, and there long did dwell,
I list not here to tell.
moSter life
in another chamier. _
Note Jloms’s restraint. He gives n
King of Athens, and latei
l“^son Theseus, she wen
out for atteinptmg
home t
But as for Jason ; —Creon now
And Corinth Idngless, every man was fain.
being slain,
Remembering Jason’s wisdom and sharp sword.

To have the hero for their king and lord.
So on liis weary brows they set the crown.
And he began to rule that noble to\vn.
And ’midst all things, somewhat Iris misery'
Was dulled unto him, as the days went by.
And he began again to cast his eyes
On lovely things, and hope began to rise
Once more \vi1hin his heart.
But on a day
From out the goodly town he took his way.
To where, beneath the cliffs of Cenchrese,
Lay Argo, looking o’er the ridgy sea.
Being fain once more to ponder o’er past days.
Ere he should set his face to winning praise
Among the 'shouts of men and clash of steel.
But when he reached the well-remembered keel,
The sun was far upon his downward way,
At afternoon of a bright summer day.
And Jason, looking out across tire sea.
Beheld the signs of wind a-drawng nigh,
Gathering about the clear cold eastern skj'.
Arid longings that had long been gathering
Stirred in his heart, and now he felt the sting
Of life -within him, and at last he said •
,
“ WTiy should I move about as mo-ve the dead.
And take no heed of what all men desire ?
Once more I feel within my heart tire fire
That drave me forth unto tlie wliite-walled torvn,
Lea-ving the sunny slopes, and thick-leaved crown
Of grey old Pelion, that alone I knew, _
Great deeds and ^vild, and desperate tilings to do.

" Once did I ivin a noble victory,
I won a kingdom, and I cast it by
Cmcltrea, The cast harbour of Corinth.

if>6 STORV POI-3tS I‘K03f JtORRIS
For rf<t and pcnco, and rt«t and jx-acc are gene.
1 }iad a fair Jove, that lovr-d nic nlone,
Atul made me dial 1 am in all men’s eye? ;
And like my liard-canicd kingdom, my fair rnee,
I east mv tender heart, my Lovemvay
Yet faile<l I not to love, until a day,

A day 1 nigh forget, took all from me
Tliat once I li.ad, yet is that as a dre.am,
.^nd still my life a happy life I deem.
But alt so short, so short ! for I am left
!
Of love, of honour, atid of ]oy bereft

.•Vnd vet not dead —
ah, if I could hut see
But once again her who delivered me
From dcatli and many troubles, then no more
Y'ould I turn backw.ard from the shadouy shore,
And all my life would seem but perfect gain.
“ Al;is what hope is this ? is it in vain
!
I long to see her ? Lo, am I not young ?

In manjf a song my past deeds have been sung,
And these my hands that guided .Argo tlirough
The blue Sympicgades, still deeds ma}- do.
For now the world has swerved from truth and right,
Cumbered with monsters, empty of delight ,'
.And, 'midst all this, what honour I may win.

That she may know of and rejoice tliorein.
And come to seek me, and upon my throne
May find me sitting worsliippcd and alone ?
“ O hope not vain O sure!}' not quite vain
! !
For, with tlie next returning light will I

Cast off my moodt' sorrow utterly.
And once more live mj' life as in times past.
And 'mid the chance of war tlic die wffl cast.
“ And surel}^ whatso great deeds have been done.
Since with mj' fellow's, the Gold Fleece I won ;
Still here some wild bull clears the frightened fields ;
For ncKo ilw loorld . . . dcUglit. Morris is here hitting at his cmi
day —of indastrial agliaess.
—
êre a great lion cleaves the sevenfold sliields ;
nere dwells some
giant robber of the land ;
i tee whirls
some woman-slayer’s red right hand.
0 be it, surely shall I snatch fair peace
"rom out the hand of
war, and calm delight
rom the tumultuous horror of the fight.”
iso saymg,
gazing still across the sea
neavy with days and nights of misery,
nis eyes waxed
dim, and calmer still he grew,
pondering over times and things he knew,
u ime now the sun had
sunk behind the hill,
from a. lyhite-thom nigh a thrush did fill
he balmy air -with echoing minstrelsj',
•^d cool the night-wind blew across the sea,
c
about the soft-uunged bats did sweep.
So midst all this at last he fell asleep,
pOr did his eyes behold anotlier day,
tor Argo, slowly rotting all away,
Had dropped a timber here, and there an oar,
^
Set
tlirough that year, but people of the shore
all again in order as it fell,
But now the stem-post, that had carried well.
The second rafter in King Pelias’ hall.
Began at last to quiver towards its fall,
frud whether loosed by some divinity.
Or that the rising wind from off the sea
Blew full upon it, surely I know not
But, when the day da\vned, still on the same spot
Beneatli the ruined stem did Jason lie
Crushed, and all dead of liim tliat here can die.
And there, where he had hoped that hope in vain.
They laid him in a marble tomb carved fair
With histories of his mighty deeds and there ;
Such games as once he loved yet being alive.

They held for ten days, and witlial did give
Sn oi/olrf, Hide-thicKncsscs.
That hope. Of malung another voyage of adventure.
i6S STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Gifts to the Gods with man3 a sacrifice,
'
But chiefest, among all the tilings of price,

Argo thej’ offered to the Deit\'
Who shakes the hard earth with the rolling sea.
And now is all that ancient stor}* told

Of liiin wlio won guarded Fleece of Gold.
tlie
INTRODUCTION TO “CUPID
AND PSYCHE”
I. THE EARTHLY PARADISE
“ While nigh the thronged wharf Geoffrey Chaucer s pen
—
Moves over bills of lading ^mid such times ’
Shall dwell the hollow puppets of my rhymes

Prologue : The Wandeyets,
The Canterbury Talcs, 1387-1400. No body of —

poetry appealed more to Morris than the Canterbury
Tales. Chaucer presented twenty-nine pilgrims as-
sembled at the Tabard Inn, Southwark,^ to make a
pilgrimage to the shrine of St. Thomas a Becket at
Canterbury. They were a motley throng. The Church
supplied the lion’s share of representatives, but rew
important bodies of tire community were altogether
left out. At the suggestion of the host, joidal Hai^
Bailey, they agreed that each should tell two stor^
on the outward journey, and two on the return ; the
teller of the best tales, as judged by the host, to be
entertained to dinner on the arrival back at tlieTabard.
Only twenty of .the talcs were actually written, as
the plan was for a superhuman work ; but Chaucer
drew his material from a very vide field Îtmian
authors (he took his verj' scheme partW from Boc-
caccio’s Decameron), French romances, Germ^ folk-
tales, and the like. Above all, each pilgrim had his
1C9
170 STORY POEMS FROM SfOKRIS
lie
well-marked individtiality apart from tUc stor^
con-
told ; and the real origmalitj' of Cliaiiccr la}‘ in the
Stmit play of a whimsical or gently satirical hupiour-^
—
The Earthly Farad tse. iti6S-70. Morn’?, m his
Earthly Paradise, planned something similar bu
simpler, eliminating marked individuality of dia^-C"
ter, making no atti-mpt to present types of a whole
community, reducing the number of stories to twentt-
four, and drawing them from onh" two sources—
Greek legend and medixval. Even then the complete
work ran to some 42,000 lines.
Prologue: The IVar.derers. —
In tlic Prologue "'C
leani how a band of Wanderers passed from Nonvay
to Bremen, where they bought a tall ship, the
Rose-Garland, and set sail, in the time of our King
Edward III., for a \'isionar>' land in the West. The
Black Death had driven them forth, and tlicy sought
an Eartlily Paradise where eternal youth should be
tlieirs. That deathless land thej’ did not find, but
after many perils and in their old age they came to
a nameless city, “ white as tire dianging walls of
faerie,” where dwelt a race of Greeks, whose fore-
fathers had vojagcd.from Ancient Greece, and in Ais
settlement kept up their old language and religion.
—
The Wanderers Norse, German, and Breton ^liad —
store of medimval chronides and tales ; when therefore,
,
they had told all the adventures of tlieir hazardous

quest, what more natural than that they should share
these other stories with their hosts, who in their turn
would relate the legends handed down to them from
their Greek ancestors ? So on the ist of March
“ There spoke an old man, the land’s chief priest.
Who said, ‘ Dear guests, the year begins to-day.
And fain are we, before it pass away, ,
To hear some tales of that now altered world,

tVherefrom our fathers in old time were hurled
By the hard hands of fete and destiny.
Jior would ye hear perchance umvillingly
;
INTRODUCTION 171
How we have dealt vath stones of the land
MTierein. the tombs of our forefathers stand :
M^herefore henceforth two solemn feasts shall be

In every month, at winch some lustoiy
Shall cro^vji our joyance ; and this day, indeed,
I have a story ready for our need.
If ye will hear it.'
”
told the stoiy of Atalanfa’s Race, and

He then in
the same month a Wanderer told the stoiy of i fie
Man horn to he King. So the t^velve months of the
year brought forth twenty-four stories and thê ;
Were connected by interludes picturing either the

nionths themselves and their dianges, or the gather-
ings at which the tales were told. . .
The Earthly Paradise (in which Jason was ongm-

ally intended to appear) thus consists of a lengmy
I*rologue,a series of short vignettes of the moi^s,
an Epilogue, twelve clear-cut Greek stories (of which
probably the best is Cupid and Psyche, told rae m
month of May), and twelve fantastic or tembie
mediseval stories (ranging from the slight Anting on
the Image to the long and powerful Lovers of GuUrun) -
a great performance, hut alas marked by none o
!
Chaucer’s humour and good fellowship.
II. CUPID AND PSYCHE

" As for the matter, I dare say of it
That it is lovely as the lovely May ;
Pass then the manner, since tlie learned say
No \vritten record was there of the tale, ^
Ere we from our fair land of Greece set sail
How this may be I know not, this I know
This flower, a gift from other lands has
The Original—With. Jason, the ori^M legcn^

having variants, hlorris took liberties ; but witn tu
weU-establishcd ston' of Cupid and Psyche
jTcrfcctly content, nnd theroforc restricted
incidenti
tion to the manner of the telling, and the
detail. The original version occurs in the Golden Ass,
a I^tin novel of adventure, by Apvilcius (Atncan-
boni in A.D. 124 i.e., as in the" lines quoted awye,
in
long after the palmy da\'= of Ancient Greece) ;
which a j-oung maiden,' captured by a band ot

thieves, forgets licr owi woe on hearing an old woman
retail the woes of Psyche.
Ils Suitability to Morris. — The incidental detruls
that Morris supplied are in such perfect accord that
Mr. No3’cs, the poet, claims “ There is no poem in an}'
language so full of material, earthl3' loveliness ^
(Morris's) Cupid and Psyche." The story itself pnrty
accounts for this it exactl3' suited the passive side
;
of Morris, tlic carl3' tapestried and decorative side.

There was another side to him, his fierce Viking side
and b3' mrtue of it he was to compose his masterpiece,
Sigurd the Volsung. But an essential element of his
genius found its complete expression in this earlier
work. The very- stor3', Mr. No3'cs suggests, is an
allegory of Jlorris’s dream-textured poesy' :Psy'cho is
not content to belier-c her lover Cupid beautiful, she
must light a midnight lamp and see for herself, only'
to lose him from her sight ^together ; so must we be
content to yield ourselves up to the fascination of this
poem as a whole, and not try' too much to scrutinize
isolated beauties.
—
The Saise of Wonder. The poem is romantic in the
Pre-Raphaelite sense. It exhibits the exceptional in
life rather than the customary, but by fidelity to
natural detail ; and the detail tells by the poet's
childlike sense of wonder, the very' blue of the sky
demanding attention as much as if it were the latest
scientific invention. The poet has the attitude tliat a
child-genius might have towards an Aladdin’s Cave
into Avhidi he had been suddenly introduced. Or he is
— —
INTRODUCTION ^73
like all the rest of us in experiencing an intense
and
pleasurable dream. ,, j
—
Meaning. As for its meaning,
irom Sir Lewis Morris’s lines
it may be gatnere
^ ine nign goas ,

Link Love with Faith, and he \vithdraws himseli
From the full gaze of knowledge.”
•Again it is apparent in his version of Cupid s farewell

to the guilty
Psyche
" Farewell
There is no Love except with Fa^h. „
I come no m
!
,
And thine isdead 1 Farewell !
and stands in
But the beautiful story speaks for itself,
no need of further comment.
;
THE STORY OF “CUPID AND

PSYCHE ”
Argument
Psyche, a Mng’s daughter, by her exceeding
caused the people to forget Venus ; therefore the g
^
would fain have destroyed her . nevertheless she e
bim
ttie bnde an unhappy moment lost
of Love, yet in
ty her own and wandering through
fault,
'"'orl
whoin she
fcred many at the hands of Venus, for
evils
must accomplish fearful tasks. But the gods and an
nature helped her, and in process of time she w^ re
to Love, forgiven by Venus, and made immortal by
Father of gods and men.
In the Greek land of old there was a King

Happy in battle, rich in everything
Most rich in this, that he a daughter had
YTiose beauty made the longing city glad.
She was so fair, that strangers from tlie sea
Just landed, in the temples thought tliat she
Was Venus visible to mortal eyes.
New come from Cyprus for a world’s surprise.
And Psyche is her name in stories old.
As ever by our fathers we were told.
All this beheld Queen Venus from her throne,

And felt that she no longer was alone
the foam
Cyprus, Near wluch Venus was said to have sprung from
of the sea.
175
<;T0RV I’OEMS
FROM MOW'S
5
nSoSid as a U?o iB*.
S *Sfltf-cS«,,
sha and
ivcl. lone i" lo”'"”®;
Tavo sistsB had

But as King's great estate
,vait.
And these p
sweet
^hTsons of kin^ l^f^VoarS'-în measures
^5ll bowed, praise.
So to APf toaSSrCoTs int.^t.

away,
was tlic K g
Tjl -Dictured book
,
Joy in ^‘^/'Snian
Aêm^ limnS had just uTOUght,
The stalled brought,
Soiden o
lôr in return,
At last fear the King did
bum,
.^S^hoând
i^ronc^vitli great pomp
he ^^;as set.
177
CUPID AKD PSYCHE
The Oracle
4P of a most unhappy
0 King, whom all the world hencefor* shall vnow
A „ii
kn ,
^'vretched among fetches, be afraid

lo ask the
thy misery to show,
gods
Kut thou needs must hear it, to thy woe
if
Tê back thy gifts to feast thine eyes âth
^
When thine own flesh and blood some
won.
“ Por there is
doom, a rugged rock
hear thy
back a league from thine oivn palace
êre leave tlfe maid, that she may the lass
Ofê fell monster that dotli harbom '
A fire there goeA from his mouth ,
Worse than the flame of Phlegethon th

To such monster shall thy maid be wed.
“ And if thou sparest now to do this thing,

I ivill destroy thee and thy land also,
^d of dead corpses shalt thou be the sh^t go.
And stumbling toough the dark land
Howling for second death to end thy wo
Live therefore as thou mayst and do my
*
^
And be a King that men may envy stiu.
What man was there, whose face chang

the le
At heamig this ? Psyche, shrunk like
The autumn frost first touches on tn >
Stared round about with eyes that co Ys'ord,

And muttered sounds from lips that j
And still within her ears the sentence
Fell, Fierce. „
, , ...
],,.minf! waters.
Phlegethon, A river of hell, question.
qu
IViiol man . .this /—A rhetorical
.
12
SCSI
(2,8C8)
I7S STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
all was said and silence fell on all
’Twixt marble columns and adonicd waU. _
'riwn s}X)ke the King, Irowcd dawr Wtli

njis ,
" What help is there O daughter, let U3 die,

!
Or else together fleeing from this land, ,,
From town to town go wandering hand in hanu-

Then an-^wered Psyche, through her hitter tc^
“ Alas my father. I have known these years
1
Tliat with some woe the gods have dowered me.

And weighed 'gainst riches infelicit 3'
then against the gods to strive ;
111 is it
Live on, O father, tliose that are alive
Maj' still he happj' would it profit me
;
To live awhile, and ere 1 died to see

Tliee perish, and all folk who lov'c me well.
”
And then at l;«t be dragged myself to hell ?
And therewith she rose and gat away.
And in her chamber, mourning long she laj%
Tliinking of all the daj's that might have been.
But of the luckless King now must we tcU,

Wlio sat devising means to 'scape that shame,
Until the frightened people tlironging came
About the palace, and drove back the guards.
Making their way past ah tlie gates and wards
And, putting chamberlains and marshals bj%
Surged round the very tlironc tumultuously.
Then knew the rcTctched King all folk had heard
The miserable sentence, and the word
The gods had spoken ; and from out his seat
He rose, and spoke in humble Words, unmeet
For a great King, and prayed them give him grace,
Ydiile 'twixt his words the tears ran down his lac6
On to his raiment stiff with golden thread.
tlic words
But little heeded they he said,
For very fear had made them pitiless ;
Wards, Delences.
CUPID AND PSYCHE 179
Nor cared they for the maid and her distress,
But clashed their spears together and ’gan •
For one man’s daughter shall the people die,

And this fair land become an empty name,
Because thou art afraid to meet the shame
YTiereivith the gods reward thy hidden sin .
”
Nay, by their glory do us right herein !
Ye are in haste to have a poor miud slam.

King said “ but my ivill herein is vam.
;
For ye are many, I one aged man :
Bet one man speak, if for his shame he can.

Then stepped a sturdy dyer forth, who said,-—
Fear of the gods brings no shame, by my head.
Listen ; thy daughter we would have thee leave
Upon the fated mountain this same eve ;
ho shalt thou save our ivives and little ones.
And something better than a heap of stones.
Dwelt in by noisome things, tliis towi shall be.
And thou thyself shalt keep thy sovereignty ;
But if thou wilt not do the thing I sa;^,

Then shalt thou live in bonds from this same day.
And We will bear thy maid unto the hill,
And from the dread gods save the city still.
Then loud they shouted at tlie words M
said.
And round the head of the unhappy maid.
Dreaming uneasilj’- of long-past joys,
Floated the echo of tliat dreadful noise,
And changed her dreams to dreams of miscr5'.
But when the King knew that Uie thing must be.
And tliat no help there ivas in his distress.

He bade tliem have all tilings in readiness
To take tlie maiden out at sun-setting, _
And wed her to the unknown dreadful tlung-

So through the palace passed with heaiw clie
Her women gathering the sad wedding gear ,
^Mlo lingering long, yet at the last must go.
Noisome, Horrible.
iSo STORY POEMS PROM MORRIS
To waken Psvdie to her bitter woe.
Tlicn sticldenfy remembering her distress.
wall,
She bowed her head and 'gan to weep and
But let them \\Tap her in the bridal veil,
And bind the sandals to her silver feet,

And set the rosc-vTcath on her tresses sweet
But spoke no word, yea. rather, wearily^
Turned from the yearning face and pitrang et'C
Of any maid who seemed about to speak. .
Now tlirough the garden trees the sun 'gan breaK,

And tliat inevitable time drew near :
an
j
Then tlirough the courts, grown cniel, strange,

drear.
Since the bright mom, thej- led her to the gate,
Where she beheld a golden litter wait.
So then was Psyche taken to the hill, ...
And through the town the streets were void and still
For in their houses all tlie people sta^’cd,
Of that most mournful music sore afraid.
But on the way a mar\'el did thej' sec,
For, passing by, where UTOught of ivory,
There stood the Goddess of the fiowert' isle,
All folk could see tlie carven image sniilc.
But when anigh tlie hill’s bare top thej' came,
Wliere Psyche must be left to meet her shame,
They set tiie litter down, and drew aside
The golden curtains from the wretched bride,
Wlio at their bidding rose and with tliem went
Afoot amidst her maids writh head down-bent.
Until they came imto the drear rock’s brow' ;
And tliere as she stood apart, not weeping now.
But pale as privet blossom is in June,
'Tliere as the quivering flutes left off iheir tune,
weeping, haggpd King
In trembling arms the
Caught Psyche, w'ho, like some half-lifeless thing.
Took all his kisses, and no word could say.
Tht Goddess of the flowery isle, Venus.
,
CUPID AND PSYCHE i'
Until at last perforce he turned away ;
decause the longest agony has end,

And homeward through the twilight did they wend.
But Psyche, now faint and beunldered.

Bemembered little of her pain and dread ;
Her doom drawn nigh took all her fear awa3^

^d left her faint and weary ; as they say
U h^ps to one who 'neath a lion lies,
umo stunned and helpless feels not ere he dies
The horror of the yellow fell, the red
rfot mouth, and white teeth gleaming o’er his head ,
So Psyche felt, as sinking on the ground

She cast one weary vacant look around,
^d at the ending of that wretched day
Swooning beneath the risen moon she lay.
(Here the story goes backward awhile to

why the oracle had issued so hard a decê.
Ve ’ .
her dwelling in Cyprus, had spoken to her

begging him to revenge her by causing Psyche to '' e“
man " that not the poorest peasant girl in
look on for tlie gift of Jason’s fleece.
willing to do this, flew doivn the wind to where
p^che
^ g
dwelt, and found her lying asleep in a Sar e •
beautiful she was, he fell in love with her, and.
forgerOTg ^
hm promise to Venus, appealed to Father 1°''''® . . .
Psyche with the gift of immortahty, rn g ,
become his -wife. Meanwhile, as the gift o°®ld poss

at once granted, Cupid hit upon a ruse to obtam
sion of Psyche forthwith.)
Withal did Love call unto him the Y md

Called Zeph3'rus, who most was to his mmd.
And said, “ O rainy wooer of the spring,
I pray thee, do for me an easy thing ;
To such a hiU-top go, O gentle ^vind. _
And tliere a sleeping maiden shalt thou hna ,
Zephynis, The genUe West Wind.

Her jx’rfwt K)dy in tliy arms \nth care
Take Tip, and unto tiie i^rcT-n valley
That lies before tny noble hotisc of %.
Then' leave her on the dairies
ljan,q TVind went.
Then smiling. Unvards Uic place the fair '
.
And ’ne.ith hi-, wing the skvpmg lilies Itcnt,^

And flying 'tv.ixt the gri'cn earth and the sea
Made tlu' huge anchored ships dance niernl> -
And swnnig round from the east the gildto
On many a jialace. and from unhorsed j
Twit,chcd oil the wheat-straw in his hurried liiS“
And inno long time he came full in sight

Of Psyche laid in swoon upon the hill,
And smiling, set himsi'lf to do Lo\'e’s will
For in his arms he took her up with care,
Wondering to sec a mortal made so fair.
And came into the vale in little space.
And set her down in tlie most flowery place ;
And then unto the plains of Thessaly

Went ruffling up the edges of the sea.
Notv underneath the world the sun was gone.
But brighter shone tlic stars so left alone.
Until a faint green light began to show
Far in the east, witereby did aU men know,
Mdio lay awake either with joj' or pain,
That day was coming on tlicir heads again ;
Then tridening, soon it spread to grey ttHlight,

And in a whUc with gold the cast was bright
The birds burst out a-singing one by one,
And o'er the hill-top rose tlic mighty sun.
Therewith did Psyche open tvide her eyes.
And rising on her arm, witli great surprise
Gazed on tlie flowers wherein so deep she lay.
And wondered why upon that dawn of day
Out in the fields she had lift up her head
gold-hung bed.
Father than in her balmy
remembering all her woes.
Then suddenly
; ;

’^sprang upon her feet, and yet arose
™hin her heart a mingled hope and dread
h some new thing and now she raised her head,
;
gazing round about her timidly,

Uovely grassy valley could she see,
mat steep grey cliffs upon three sides did boimd,
md under these, a river sweeping round,
ith gleaming curves the valley did embrace,
'V
Ind seemed to make an island of that place

md all about were dotted leafy trees,
me elm for share, the Linden for the bees,
me noble oak, long ready for the steel
mat in that place it had no fear to feel
me pomegranate, the apple, and the pear,
mat fruit and flowers at once made shift to bear,
ôt yet decayed therefore, and in them hung
fright birds that elsewhere sing not, but here sung
sweetly as tlie small brown nightingales
Yithin the wooded, deep Laconian vales.
But right across the vale, from side to side,
high white wall all further view did liide,
^
“Ut that above it, vane and pinnacle
Rose up, of some great house beyond to tell,
‘^nd still bet^vixt these, mountains far away
'^gainst the sky rose shadowy, cold, and grey.
She, standing in the yellow morning sun,

^
Could scarcely think her happ3' life was done,
Or that tlie place was made for misery ;
Yea, some lone heaven it rather seemed to be,

Wliich for the coming band of gods did v'pt-
But trembling ’midst her hope, she took her y
Unto a little door midmost the wall.
And still on odorous flowers her feet (hd fall.
And round about her did tlie strange birds sing.
S/«trc, Ploughshare.
, of the Pelo-
iMconian vales. Laconia was the soutnern tract
ponnesus, in \Y]jich stood Sparta.
MORRIS
S.1
STORY rOEMS FROM
. < ijcnutv their ciiroUins-
which waiteth me ? ^
Ilow V?n
can I > P „the iU
‘^cape
herewith, trcmbhngl.V
S 'raised tlie
Intel',
n"
J,>''e “”'e®
n"l"„.?.';S!'SeeS‘;Srds »,. »y,
seem.
Londy. but not deserted did
it
to do,
Lone time she stood debating whatthrough,
the last she passed the wncket
But at her, sent
Wiich, shutting clamorously behind went
her as she
A nane of fear throughout green place she
hac
But when through all that
passed, , ^ i
at last.
And by the palace porch she stood wTOUght,
And saw how wonderfully the w'all was brought.
With curious stones from far-off countnes
And many an image and fair history yet shall be.
Of what the world has been, and craftsmanship.
round w'ith golden
And aU set royal hp,
Well-wrought as some renowned cup’s
again to turn aside
She had a thought
:
bide,
A A ipain, not knowing where to
softly, and ivith trembling hands
^'^Ziter(fd
all lands
her gown the wonder of
;
wonders of the land and sea.

tber die . thing came near.
,
i85
CUPID AND PSYCHE
And gaze vipon. the wonders of the place,
^d in the silver mirrors saw her face
Crown strange to her amidst that loneliness,
And stooped to feel the web her feet did press.
Wrought by the brown slim-fingered Indian s ton
Amidst the years of war and vain turmoil
Or she the figures of the hangings felt.
Or daintily unknown blossoms smelt,
Or stood and pondered what new thing mig
_pan
The images of knight and king and queen
Wherewith the walls were pictured here and
>
Or touched rich vessels with her fingers f^'

pa
And o’er her delicate smooth cheek would
The fixed bubbles of strange works of glass .
So lyandered she amidst these marvels new

Until anigh the noontide now it grew.
At last she came unto a chamber cool
Paved cunningly in manner of a pool, floating
floaung
'^Tiere red fish seemed to swim through
» I j
And at the first she thought it so mdeea.
And took the sandals quickly from her leer,
Eut when the glassy floor these did but mee
The shadow of a long-forgotten smile
Her anxious face a moment did beguue ,
And crossing o’er, she found a table spre^

With dainty food, as delicate white bread
And fruits piled up and covered savoury m >
As though a king were coming there

Por the worst vessel was of beaten gold-
Now when these dainties Psyche did ben
She fain had eaten, but did nowise dare.
Thinking she saw a god’s feast lying there.
But as she turned to go the way she came
She heard a low soft voice call out her j
Then she stood still, and trembling
And seeing no man, nigh sank upon the .mire
^
Then through the empty air she heard the
MORRIS
,sr, STORY POEMS PROM apKC
Icar not ralhcr
0 lovclv om,
1
Thai <'<>"
all Itos^tel-
tllo. . ivil. ivith
"X
il Si' toe'llSlc topa -aia
|r,ot?a ;?an a, U.™. one
al'JS SSvc K ”ouSs here alone,
s%%eet tl
Remenibcr. Psyche, trembling sore,
heretofore
And
^ yet'SuigWeV
" s _
,
grew scarce afeard ,
Sit down and cat,
Shone a fair sta atte

t
Tlusbrongh^h^c I hear
t
She said, jjtgjjjoon, _
uaat
Soft music
ê > murmunng tune
Aud dro;.;m mvhde
u°''
she spoke,
yVithin these 'j" unknoivn unseen folk
s^veet-voKed these
A
Iree.,
S?d“.a Sa maalc of .ho linden
her
Psyche fell happily asleep,
. later
^SeSd'&eS,.,
i87
CUPID AND PSYCHE
The sun was high when Paj’^che woke again,
turning to the place where he had lain
And seeing no one, doubted of the tiling
Diat she had dreamed it, tUl a fair gold ring.
Unseen before, upon her hand she found,
:^d touching her bright head she felt it croiwied
With a bright circlet ;
then withal she sighed.
And wondered how the had lied,
oracle
Andrvished her father knewand straightway
it,
^se up and clad herself. So passed away
The days and nights, until upon a day
As in the shade, at noon she lay asleep.
She dreamed that she beheld her sisters weep.
And her old father clad in sorrj' giiise,
_
Crown foolish with the weight of miseries.

Her friends black-clad and moving moumtuuy.
And folk in wonder landed from the sea.
At such a fall of such a matchless maid,
^d in some press apart her raiment lam
Like precious relics, and an emptj’^ tomb
Set in the palace telling of her doom. tporq
Therefore she wept in sleep, and woke ivi
Still on her face, and wet hair round her ear ,
^d went about unhappily that day.

Framing a gentle speech wherewith to pra}
For leave to see her sisters once again.
That they might know her happy, and P
Turned all to joy, and honour come from
And so at last night and her lover came.
And midst tlieir fondling, suddenly she saia,
“ O Love, a little time we have been wea,
And yet I ask a boon of thee this ^Sh ,
“ Psyclie,” he said, " if my heart tells me
nght.
ripht
This tliy desire may bring us bitter 'voe, ^

For who the shifting (Aance of fate can
scnten or
^'tgW and her lover came. Example of condensed
zeugma.
ISS STORY POEMS l'RO?.t MORRIS
Yet, forasmuch as mortal lie-arts are weak.
To-morrow shall my folk tin' sisters seek.
And Irear them hither but iK'fore the day
;
Is fully ended must they go away.

— —
And tiiou beware for. fre*-!! and good and tnie.
Thou knowest not what worldly lieartsmay do.
Or what a curse gold is unto the earth.
Beware lest from lliy full heart, in thj' mirth,
niou tell'st the stort' of thy love unseen :
Thy lonng, simple heart, fits not a queen.”

So the next day, for joy that they .should come.
Would Psyche further deck her strange new home.
And even as she 'gan to think the tliought,
Quickly her will bj- unseen hands was uTought.
W'ho came and went like thoughts. Yea, how should I
Tell of the works of gold and ivory,

Tlie gems and images, those hands brought there :
The prisoned things of earth, and sea, and air.

They brought to please their mistress ? Many a beast
Such as King Bacchus in his reckless feast
—
Makes merry tvith huge elephants, snow-white
With gilded tusks, or dusky-grey with bright
And shining chains about their wrinkled necks ;
The mailed rhinoceros, that of nothing recks
Dusky-maned lions ; spotted leopards fair
That through the cane-brake move, unseen as air ;
The deep-mouthed tiger, dread of the brown man ;
The eagle, and the peacock, and the swan
— These be die nobles of the birds and beasts.
But wherewithal, for laughter at their feasts.
They brought them the gods’ jesters, sucli as be
Quick-chattering apes, that yet in mockery
Of anxious men ^yrinkie their ugly bô^ys ;
Strange birds witli pouches, birds with beaks like
prows
Sacchits, God of ^îne, He was a >-outhful god, fond of

*
“extravagant revelrj-.
Of merchant-ships, with tufted crests like threads.
With 'Unimaginable monstrous heads,
ho, such as these, in many a gilded cage
They brought, or chained for fear of sudden
Then strewed they scented branches on the floor,
-^d hung rose-garlands up by the great door.
And wafted incense through the bowers and hails,
^d hung up fairer hangings on the walls,
A
And
And’- —— —
And filled the
Lue baths
’ ’
in the chambers
wd-ici fresh and clear,
with water
uaxiis wiui
laid apparel fair.
...
And spread a table for a royal feast.

Then when from all these labours they had ceased. L (
Psyche they sung to sleep with lullabies ;
Mô slept noj long, but op)ening soon her eyes.

Beheld her sisters on the threshold stand .
Then did she run to take them by the hand.

And laid her cheek to theirs, and murmured woras
Of little meaning, like the moan of birds.
While they bev^dered stood and gazed around.
Like people who in some strange land have tound
One that they thought not of ; but she at las ,
Stood back, and from her face the strayed

*'
enst
tlmt j e
And, smiling through her tears, said, Ah,
Should have to weep such useless tears lor
me .
Alas, the burden that the city bears _
For nought !O me, my father’s burnmg tears.

That into all tliis honour I am come 1
Nav, does he live yet ? Is tlie anaent home s ^

StiU standing ? do the galleys throng
the qua} .
ways
Do the brown Indians glitter down tlieroad
Witli rubies as of old ? But by what
0/ • • • heads. Notice
liable l.atin m
wrd tlic second line of .n couplet to
particularb
i
of simple and mostly Saxon -vcords is senWnTO- -

Uast. Note the sjTnmrtricil compound
Then
^ als^ i,<«rfrc<]ucntly he pmfers oMons .-ind
to-day fidl stops s\ou!d be used. What
effect has this
^S
pace of the poem ?
TOO STORY POEMS FROM
Have VC been brought to this mv iie\v
" Sister.” said one. "
It seems this mom,
1
and Ijcmg appareUeO,
rose up from
^ bea
An'dvalking in my garden, a swoon m
Helpless and unattended I ^ream
a dream
scarce am waked for as
Wiirefrom I
royal gloD'
Dost thou with all tin; ..
words, O love.
Tint for thv kisses and thy
as I dro
“ Yea Psvchc,” said the other,
through the shuttle-race,
The ivon- shuttle
li was changed suddenly, and tins place m
T fniind mvêlf. and standing
on my feet,
\Uicn: me'with sleepv
words this one did greet.
tell us Vhence tliese wonders come
Sirs-^^cr.
tlie godlike splendour of your home.
Witli all
'• Sisters,” she said, more marvels shall ye see

"
been a little while with me,
Wlien ve have
than this
Mliereof I cannot teU you more
That ’midst them aU I dwell m
case and bliss,
Well-lov’cd and wedded to a
mighty lord.
Fair beyond measure,
from whose lovang word
I know that
happier days await me yet.
•Rnt come. mV sisters, let us not
forget
for empty knowledge ye shall take
To seek ;
sake
Come little gifts for your lost sister s ;
ye may see or he^

And whatso wondershave j'e any fear.
A?^ntViine frightful
then but fed the fire of greed
Spr kindness
lirfiiin tlieir hearts —
her gifts, the rich attae
\vniprewith she clad them, where like sp^ks of fire
gems shone 'midst tte pearls,
The manV-coloured work of girls
S'® iUks’ winding lines, the
Rivers tlieir fair marvêllous crowns,
S'^niVive
By the Five 1
;
^he rent of tovms,
wonders fair.
^d civTd ringi; and nameless
Zones, Girdles.
T, The Indus.
Five Ktiers,
•CUPID AND PSYCHE 19^
^ things her faithful

iven amid kisses,
slaves had brought them
made them not more glad
there,
;
Th their hearts the ravening they had worm

slays not, nor yet is satisfied .
While aught hut

he has aught ; yet still they tried
0 look as thej'
deemed loving folk should look,
And stiU with words of love her bounty took.
Nowhaving reached the place where they should eat,

Are neath the
canopj^ the three took seat,
the elder sister Psyche said,
unto ,
,
^nd he, dear love, the man that thou hast wed,
Tk wish to-daj’’ thy kin to see ?
oould rve tell of thy felicity
Tk ^
the better, to our folk and father dear. ,,
Then Psyche reddened, “ Nay, he is not here,

bhe stammered, “ neither ^vill be here t(>Qay,
I'or mighty
matters keep him far away.
Alas ” the younger sister said, “ Say then,
!
nTiat is the likeness of this first of men ;

what sayest thou about his loving eyne,
ê his locks black, or golden-red as thine . .
Black-haired like me,” said Psyche,

‘
And looking round, “ what say I ? ^ê the l^g

rules the world, he seems to me y .
Come, sisters, sit, and let us make 6^9“

Hy darling and my love yc shi^
Idoubt not soon, his crispy of h^ ^
.
His eyes unseen and ye shall hear his

>
;
That in my joy yc also may rejoice.
Then did they hold their to heed

Her stammering haste they did not fa 1 «ir
wondrous rojâl feast they
But at Hieir
of this or drat
ThLwng their droughts, and spoke when
Between the bursts of music, until
Xhc ruvtnitiS 3iivvy and greed.

STORY POEMS FROM
MORWS
leaving the abodes
Thr 'iun ;
ii thL must Psvche to her sister^; ^

av^3 •
Iter husband being
nnlat^shc was bid.
to harbour there,
suffer none at night
the mother that her body bare
not
nri noble stones might be told ,

ivliercof
behold
T'Tsaid These matters that you here
• •'
gifts that you shall have

m"û wiie
;
worst of
,M1 farewell and mav the high gods sa\c
1
;
and .eU onr fate dear
honour that I live in here.
Of aU the
greater happiness shall come
aSiow thatreach a long-endunng home. . ,
T stiall
though burning through the mgW to
^'
SJthie
o fnvme words, and went upon their way, wept
Smg she had kissed them
tLrsâs traitors do, for as they
but they
stepped
;
e'^âi
other’s eyes
the threshold, in each
, inoked,
for each was eager to surpnse
17V that their hearts were filled wthal,
to^toir lips came welling
up like gall.
Tl'at
iU.*'
” said the first, “ this palace \\athout folk,

“ c
bo, '
jgjs done with none to stake a stroke,
w
Xliesc
This sinpng
^ gjj.^ pjje seen.
wonderful for any queen.
These gi«s . ôth were ^\Tapt away.
tnuice to-day—
The
And set
^
dow ^pt of jên
or® n
^ ;
These are day

the ^ to her, .when
was
And forton^^\ ft j^p^gp ^^hpre we were born,
^\reepmg ® „ jpemed her shamed ^dmost forlorn.”
And all meo reddening m her rage.
said u
Then
^

She is the luckiest
one of all this age ;
unT niight have told us of her case.

What god it is that dweUeth in the place,
,
°r sent us forth
like beggars from her gate.
«en straightway did he lift them from me Oc

And quickly each in her fair house set dovvn.
Then flew aloft above the sleeping town.
Long in their homes they brooded over m ,
And how that Psyche nigh a goddess is ’>
v,ppn
lost had been.
all folk deemed that she quite
Por naught they said of all that they had
Till she that threw the golden apple
Upon the board, and lighted up Troy tow ,
On dusky wings came fi5dng o’er me pia ,
And seeing Psyche wth her happy ince

Asleep beneath some fair tree bloômmg.
Into her sleep straight cast an evil “"S •
.
iVliereby she dreamed she saw bor ,.unê

golden shade
Wanting for breath benea.th the
Of Ms great bed’s embroidered canopy.
And wth his last breath moaning
Her name and fancied woes th qmot b
.
k
broke
And tMs iU dream through all ber her would g
•
And next morn her low Irom

when
And going, as it wâs lus wont to do,
must find tl
Would kiss her sleeping, he
Moe.
Slew
(2.S<S>)
«o tko o£ Tioy. and infm.lc
MORRIS
19-1
STORY POEMS FROM
the hollo^^•s of her
rosy eat?
Fillintr
And wetting half the say.
:ÔLo!"ytVtlShaw good
MHio for content shouldst said,
This cold hour ere the
datwmg ?
j
cried he.
_ ^
By my head
i
Put wept aloud. Then

wall do for thee
WTate'er thou wishest I
,
make an end of thee and me.

Yea if it “ I scarce dare ask again.
" b Love,” she said,
acliing pam
Vet is there in mine heart an become
To know what of my father is .
sisters to my nonic.
So would I send my never told
Because I doubt indeed they
my honour in this house of gold ,
Of all
oath would I take.
So now of them a great
said, " Alas and hast thou been atvake
He !
por them indeed ? who in my

arms asleep +11011
thou
weU have been for their sakes didst
Sightst ;
an,o mTJhFst have smiled to feel my kiss

on thee ?
Vet as thou wishest once more

shall it be,
Rpnuse my oath constrains me, and thy

tears.
again beware, and make these fears

And vet
(^none avail nor waver any inore,
;
tliee for already to the shore

I pray :
delights and joys thou drawest mgh.

Of all
fjp spoke, and from the chamber straight did fly

softiy then,
T-o hie&st heaven, and going
IT? orfpd tlie father of all gods
and men
>yr+^^ravers for Psyche’l immortality.
across the sea,
^Îfemtime went Zephyrus agam,
îflop ier sisters to her arms .
that message little was

he fain,
J? their cankered hearts.
1
their malice and
I
The father, Jove.

,
^
CUPID AND PSYCHE
VJ JL
4. 195 4-
thought upon their parts.

For f Psyche’s ear ;
drew anear,
Nor 1,^’ 1
,..
'’ in theE hands they hid,
asked them why this thing they did
WrviiL
" Vni
^^^^rer aught, till trembling Psyche said,
Q. j^’ ^^y^ what is it ? is our father dead ?

these tears for shame that ye
Hav„
nave told him
not of mv felicity.
go
QfT, and teu mm an ye know
“‘ui gins,
nis my
unexpected happy lot.”
n one said “We told him not
fresh sobs ;
‘ oy
good counsel did we hide the thing,
^
jjjeeming it well that he should feel the sting
j°ôe, tlian for awhile be glad again,
A°
”?ffrer come to suffer double pain.” .
Alas what mean you, sister ? ” Psyche said,

!
P
rOT terror
waxing pale as are the dead. ....
0 sister, speak ” “ Child, by tliis loving toss,
!
opake one of them, " and that remembered bliss

u e dwelt in when our mother was alive.
Or ever we began with ills to strive,
ny all the hope thou hast to see again
Our aged fatlier and to soothe his pain,
thing
1 charge thee tell me,—Hast thou seen tlie
Thou callest Husband ? ” quivering,
Psyche cried out, “ Alas I what '>'
^^^lat riddles yilt Uiou speak

unto m
" Alas ” she said ; " then is it
1
“^ •
j ^
Sister, in dreadful places

To learn about tliy case, and tl
tiic ground
gro
A wise man, dwelling undenêvath
to “s
In a dark awful cave : he toW
A horrid talc thereof, and piteous.
—
lOO STORY POILMS FROM
That thmi w^rl vcdtirtl to an eril
A Sfqh'nt-btxht <! l!<-nd of poi'ônou^ t>
no^
P.C'.twl of fonn, \vt th' rcwitls lactan,?
H'tn such a soura"; \vic};o<l men }ia'’C|.'p^'
Tims aRf-s long agono the RCkIs inadft
And sol him in a lake hereby to swin ;
But cverT,' hundnnl years he hath thi?
That he may change within his golden
Into a fairyoung man by night alone.
Alas, my sister, thoii hast cause to groan - „
What siayest thou ? Ilis xforiis arir/iHi' am - J
He rametli loi'ti;g ktssrs on tnc ofl,
IViYping for loir : hr (ells tnr of a day
IlVirti from ihh place xrr both shall go aicay,
And he shall hiss me Ihcn no more unseen,
The while I sit by him a glorious auceU
— Alas, poor cliild
must
,
it plcascth thee, his kiss i
I
,
Then I sliow thee why he docth this :
Because he willeth for a time to save

Thv body, wrctclicd one ! that he maj' liave
Botli child and mother for his avaterv' hell—
Ah, what a tale this is for me to tell i
“ Thou pmj'cst us to save thee, and we can ;
Since for nought else we sought tliat wise old man.
Who for great gifts and seeing that of kings
We botli were come, has told us all tliese tilings,
And given us a fair lamp of hallowed oil
That he has wrought with danger and mudi toil
And tliereto has he added a sharp knife.
he wcU-nigh lost his life.
In forging whicli
About him so the devils of the pit
—
Came swarming O, go\\^ my sister, hast tliou it ? "
Iicr otlier one drew out
Stroiglit froni
knife, which Psj^che, dumb wnth doub
The lainp and took m her hand.
misen' at once,
" From doubtful land
Then said her sister,
^^^'
US royal gifts a while ago,
rrtv’st
ga
Tkon tliee, tliough they lack for show
’
But
;

Shall —
be to thee a better gift, thy life.
Put now in some sure place this lamp and knife,
And when he sleeps rise silently from bed
And hold the hallowed lamp above his head.
And swiftly draw the charmed knife across
His cursed neck, thou well mayst bear the loss.
Nor shall he keep his man’s shape more, when he
Pirst feels the iron
wrought so mysticly :
Hut thou, flee unto us, we have a tale.

Of what has been thy lot wdthin this vale, j
, „ ao
Of what we have 'scaped therefrom, wliich we shall
Hy \Trtue of strange spells tlie old man knew.
Farewell, sweet sister here we may not staJ^
1
^t in returning he should pass this way

Hut in the vale we will not fail to wait
Till tliou artloosened from thme evil fate.
Thus went tliey, and for long the}' said not augli ,
Fearful lest any should surprise their tliouglit.

Hut in such wise had envy conquered fear.
That they were fain that eve to bide ancar
Their sister's ruined home but when they came
;
Unto the river, on tlicm fell the same

Resistless languor they had felt before,
-'Vndfrom the blossoms of that flowerj' shore
Their sleeping bodies soon did Zephyr bear.
For other folk to hatcli new ills and care.
But on the ground sat Psyche all alone,
The lamp and knife beside her, and no moan
She made, but silent let the long hours go,
TUI dark night closed around her and her v oe.
Vet drivim by her sisters’ words at last.
And by remembrance of tlic time now past.
When she stooil trembling, as the oracle
With all its fearfuldoom upon her fell,
Siic to h(’r h.ipless wcrlding chamber turned.
And while the waxen tapers fashly burnui
She laid tho'ê dread gift*- ready to'her hand.
staiu
Then quenciifd the lights, and" by the l^'d did ,
igS STORY POEMS FROM MORRIS
Turning these matters in her troubled mind ;
And sometimes lioped some glorious man to find
Bencatli tlie lamp, fit bridegroom for a bride
Likelier; ah, then with what joy to his side
!
Would she creep back in the dark silent night

But whiles she quaked at thought of what a sight
The tamp might show her the hot nish of blood
;
The knife might shed upon her as she stood.

The dread of some pursuit, the hurrjang out.
Through rooms where every sound would seem a shout.
Into the windy night among the trees.
Where many a changing monstrous sight one sees.
When nought at all has happed to chill the blood.
But as among these c\nl thoughts she stood,
She heard him coming, and straight crept to bed.
And felt him touch her with a new-bom dread.
And durst not answer to his words of lo\'c.
But when he slept, she rose tliat tale to prove.
And sliding do\\Ti as softly as might be,
And moving through tlie chamber quietly,
She gat the lamp within her trembling hand,
And long, debating still tliese things, did stand
In thick darkness, till slie seemed to be
tliat
A dweller in some black eternity.
And what she once had called the world did seem
A hollow void, a colourless mad dream ;
—
For she felt so alone tluree times in vain
She moved her heaiy hand, tliree times again
It fell adown ; at last Oiroughout the place
Its flames glared, lighting up her woeful face,
Mddle images of fearful things did flit
Before her eyes ; thus, raising up tlie hand
That bore the lamp, one moment did she stand
XVhiles At times. Tlie passage following is suggestive of the Dagger
Scê in Machith.
^ *
^ etc
_ ^
Is this paragraph a convincing aemunt of the incident,

Is tb£e skiU la the telling of it ?
.
or not ?
GinPIiD AND PSYCHE 199
^ man’s time and then suddenly

tells it,
ypenfed her eyes, but scarce kept back a cry
At what she saw for there before her lay
;
1 he very
Love brighter than dawm of day ;
And as he lay there smiling, her own name
yis gentle lips in sleep began to frame.
And as to touch her face his hand did move ,
then, indeed, her faint heart swelled for love.
y
And she began to sob, and tears fell fast
—
ypon the bed. ^But as she turned at last
To quench tire lamp, there happed a little tiling
ât quenched her new delight, for flickenng
the treacherous flame cast on his shoulder tair
A burning drop he woke, and seemg her t lere
;
The meaning of that sad sight loiew fuh weu,
hor was there need the piteous tale to teU.
cry,
Then on her knees she fell wth a gre«at
Por in his face she saw the thunder
And she began to know what she had done.
And saw herself henceforth, unloved, alone,
Pass onward to tlie grave ; and once aga
She heard tire voice she now inust iov ,
j’
" O wavering heart, farewell be not afraid
!
That I with fire will bum thy t>ody L •

,
^
.
Or cast tliy sweet limbs pieceineal tli S

The fates shall work tliy _
And thine own memorj' of our kind laiow

" Farewell though I, a
!
How thou canst lose tliy pain, >ot mmê 3 et

Over thine head, and thou
The bitter and the sweet, nor ta
Nor quite remember, till these

The wavering memo^' of a lovvj
^nd’his bow.
up an
Therewith he caught lus slialts
the ‘diam
And striding through ’
jj
Light all around hmi : no n
more.
but he turned
Still followed .liter ;
; ;
200 STORY POEMS FRO^r MORRIS

And when into the moonlit night he came
From out her sight he vanished like a llaine.
And on the threshold till the dawn of day
Through sill the changes of the night she lay.
At daybreak, when she hftcrl up licr eyes,

She looked around with heavj’ dull surprise,
.And rose to enter the fair golden place ;
But then remembering all her piteous case

She turned away, lamenting verj' sore,
And wandered down unto the river shore ;
There, at the head of a green pool and deep.
She stood so long that she forgot to weep.
And the wild things about tlic water-side
From such a silent thing cared not to hide ;
The dace pushed 'gainst the stream, tlie dragon-fly,
Witli its ^cen-painted w'ing went flickering bj'
The water-hen, the Imstrcd kingfisher,
Went on tlieir ways and took no heed of her
The little recd-biras never ceased to sing,
And still tlie eddy, like a living thing,
Broke into sudden gurgles at her feet.
But 'midst tliose fair tilings, on that morning sweet.
How could she, weary creature, find a place ?
She moved at last, and lifting up her face.
Gathered her raiment up and cried, *' Farcw’cU,
O fairest lord ! and since I cannot dw'ell
With thee in heaven, let me now hide head my
”
In wliatsoever dark place dwell the dead !
And with that w'ord she leapt into the stream,
But tlie kind river even yet did deem
That she should live, and, with all gentle care.
Cast her ashore lyitliin a meadow fair,
Upon the other side, where Shepherd Pan
Sat looking dowm upon tlie water wan,
“ Fair maid,
Goat-legged and merry, who called out,
as with horns and
Pail God of flocks and shepherds, represented ’
'goat’s feet, dancing,

and playing on ' panpipes.
,

hurr^dng to the feeble shade
' uence none
rehim ? Well do I know tliy pain,
“ind have not lived in vain ;
forget all that within a while,
AtiH
AriJ otlier happy youtli volt smile ;
must be dull indeed if he

At
^ tilings in his ecstasy
Tliil •
1
^ wonder made for him,
(Ai
,
'’Imat clinging govm makes mine eyes swim
as I am : but to the god of Love
now. sweet child, for all things can he move.
Weeping she passed him, hut full reverently,
Tu that she was not to die

M had filled the measure of her woe. blinu, and .
^0 tlirough tlie meads she passed, half
^nd on her sisters somewhat now she

tliought
^d, pondering on tlie evil they had wouglit,
the yeU fell from her, and she saw iheir gui e.
vUe
„. Alas ” she said, “ can deatli make folk so
!
îsters, alas, for what ye used to be !
Once did I tliink, whatso might hap to me, '
Still at the worst, witliin your arms f °

A haven of pure love ; tlien were ye kma.
Then was my ioy e’en as my verj' own
And now, and now, if I can be alone
That is my best ; but that can never be,
Tor your unkindness still shall ^taj i
^Vhen VC arc dead But Oion, my — lost

,
m>
Wert fliou not kind ? -I should hniê w
ûst n
Within a little—Yea. and c cn
With angry godlicad on ^hy Jo' V cone’ away
SUU thoS wert kind-And
For ever ? I know not. but
« W" «=^y
till I
Still will I seek thee
And nurse rcinembmncc of ,Tê
"
sore :
Witliin my heart,
for c^cru
1
For what am 1 but thmc

; — :
202 STORY POEMS FROJJ MORRIS

Thenceforth her fjack upon tJie world she turned
As she had known it ; in lier heart tlierc burned
Such deathless love, that still untirerl she went
The huntsman dropping down the wootty bent,
In the still evening, saw her passing b}’
Like a thin dream she passed the clattering town ;
On the tlironged quaj-s she watched the ships come in

Patient, amid tlie strange outlandish din ;
Unscared she saw the sacked towns' miseries.

And marching armies passed before her ej’es.
And still of her the god had such a care
None did her wrong, altliough alone and fair.
Through rough and smooth she wandered many a day.
Till all her hope had well-nigh passed away.
Jleanwhile tlic sisters, each in her o^\•n home.

Waited tlie day when outcast she should come
And ask tlieir pity ; when perchance, indeed,
Thej' looked to gi\’e her shelter in her need,
And witli soft words such faint reproaches take
As she durst make tliem for her ruin's sake ;
But day passed day, and still no Psyche came.

And wliile tliey wondered whether, to tlieir shame.
Their plot had failed, or gained its end too well.
And Psyche slain, no tale thereof could tell.
Amidst tliese tilings, the eldest sister lay
Asleep one evening of a summer day.
Dreaming she saw tlie god of Love anigh.
Who seemed to say imto her lovingly,
“ Hail unto thee, fair sister of my love ;
Nor fear me for tliat thou her faitli didst prove.

And found it wanting, for tliou, too, art fair.
Her place unfilled ; rise tlien,and have no care
For fatlier or for friends, but go straightway
Unto tlie' rock where she was borne that day ;
There, if thou hast a Mill to be my bride.

Put fliou all fear of horrid death aside,
Bait, Hillside.
;

leap
from off the cliff, and there will come
TT^ * yP’ hear thee up and take thee home,
aste then,
before the summer night grows late,
or in my ”
house thy beauty I await !
So spake the did

dream ; and tlirough the night
sail,
y,i!d to the other sister
bore the tale
one rose nor doubted of the thing,
tills
nch deadly pride
unto her heart did cling ;
Jiastily rich raiment on her cast

J^ôugli tlie sleeping serxîng-people passe ,
And looked with changed eyes on tlie moonlit street,

Aor scarce could her feet.
feel the ground beneath
ut long the
time seemed to her, till she oame
f nae
where her sister once was borne to sna >
And when she reached the bare cliff s rugged

^lie cried
aloud, “ O Love, receive me now,
Wlio am not all unworthy to be thine 1
And witli that word, her jewelled a™s s^^

Outstretched bencatli tlie moon, and Deatn,
êatli,
She sprung to meet tlie outstretched arms of
Tile only god that waited for her there.
And in a aatliered moment of despmr
A hideous thing her trait 'rous hie ^d seem.
_But ivith die passing of that hollow dream
The other sister rose, and as she >
Arrayed hersdf alone in that stiff mgnt.

And so stole forth, and making no delay _
Came to tlie rock anigh the ’
No warning there her sister s spint g

No doubt ^me nigh her
But with a fever burning in her t’*® stood
With glittering eyes and she cried.
One moment on the brow the ,
bride
Receive me, Love, chosen to
•• ff«
From ail the million women ,

ere hurled.
hmb^ .yerc
Then o-cr the cliff her wicked
;
204 STORY POEMS FROM IMORRIS

Nor has t]ie language of the earth a name
For tliat surprise of terror and of shame.
Now, ’midst her wanderings, on a hot noontide.

Psyche passed down a road, wliere, on cacli side
Tlic yellow cornfields lay, although as yet
Unto the stalks no sickle had been set
The lark sung over them, the butterfly
Flickered from car to car distractedly,
Tlic kestrel hung above, the weasel peered
From out the wheat-stalks on her unafeard,
Along the road the trembling poppies shed
On the burnt grass their crumpled leaves and red ;
Most lonoh' was it, nothing Psyche knew
Unto what land of all the world she drew ;
Aweary was she, faint and sick at heart.
Bowed to the earth by Uioughts of that sad part
She needs must play some blue flower from the com
:
Tliat in lier fingers crcwhilc she liad borne.

Now’ dropped from them, still clung unto her gowm ;
Over tlie hard way hung her head adown

Dcspairinglj', but still her weary feet
Moved on half conscious, her lost love to meet.
So going, at tlic last she raised her eyes.
And saw a grassy mound before her rise
Over the ydlow plain, and thereon was
A marble fane with doors of burnished brass,
Tliat 'twi.xt the pillars set about it burned ;
So tliitherward from off the road she turned.
But when its tlireshold now her feet did gain.
She, looking tlirough the pillars of the shrine.
Beheld tlierein a golden image shine
Of golden Ceres ; then she passed the door.
And with bowed head she stood awhile before
f:os , . . shavtc.
Note the cunning use of suggestion here.
KesirÛ A species of small hawk. ~ , ,
agriculture ; in Greek,
Demetcr. Golden because
Ceres Goddess of
of the golden wlicat.
,

image, stri.\dng for some word
II
nêher lover and her lord,
a
®idst rising tears at last she prayed
Û rand one, it while ;
yet 1 was a maid

? pleasure, on this day
v*’
\,S to me, poor wanderer on the way,
no stnve my
love upon the earth to meet
^ me rest my weary, doubtful feet
ithin thy
quiet house a little while,
na on my rest
if tlrou wouldst please to smile,
nd send me news of
•
it
my own love and lord,
Would not cost thee, lady, many a word.”
„ from out the shrine a sweet voice came,
jont straight
0 Psyche, though of me thou hast no blame,
And though indeed thou sparedst not to give
”'nat my soul loved, while happy thou didst live,
^6t little can I give now unto thee,
«nce thou art rebel, slave, and enemy
Unto the love-inspiring Queen ; this grace
Uiou hast alone of me, to leave this place
Free as thou earnest, though the lovely one
Socks for the sorceress who entrapped her son
In every land, and has small ioy in augM,
Until before her presence thou art brought. ,
^Then Psvehe, trembling at s sake

Durst answer nought, nor for that counsel
Could other offerings leave eKcept her te^.
As now, tormented by the passca
The words divine had raised in her, she
Tile brazen threshold once
agam,
hopeless look across the
pâm
A drearv nought ana ^ v
Yhose golden beauty now seemed die hiU
do^
Unto Iwr aching heart ; then
shallow s ot tin. rui.
She went and crossed the her wt^
,
And wcarilv she went upon

passed upon
or anv homestead
night 1^5
Nor any hamlet, and atfrom any town.
Within a wood, far ofl
MORRIS
r STORV POEMS FROM
to be the ransom of ât Ungs ,
Woraiv
gold and
And in the midst of
An image of
Q“‘-'‘-'^,i*'JP°^thin her and she thought,
ASu.cs"vii?y« be x;‘?'rv S'

Some little ]oy to her knees
my love finds me.
Till ^
O Cô^^'n of goddesses,
mayst thou rejoice

ThT? ii?“ It is so. ^vell
m’' find thee out, in

whatso land thou art,
=be,
;'Sfie“SeS.l!SSe'Sfg"SS>“
tlune arms i •—
) Love, «dnce in
T
thv breast.
upon thy
iinon
o V n^m^veary head
v,pnrl
Or lay .jj^y jove forlorn,
bom
,
Have I never had been

!
^lake m Venus. to whom tt was

she went upon her way,
“nclso. aVinnt rl i-u- j
^cu rouna about in manner of a chase,

ereof the gates
as now were open wide ;
air grassy glades
and long she saw inside
etMxxt great trees, deer
doAvn which the unseated
ere playing
yet a pang of deadly fear,
76 knew not why, shot coldly through her hear^
;
thrice she turned as though she would depart,

thrice returned, and in the gateway stood
'\ithwavering, feet ; smaU flowers as red as
bioou
'
growing up amid the soft green grass,
Ere
^^d here and there a fallen rose there was,
And on the trodden grass a silken lace,
olace
P ;
though crovmed revellers had passed bj
^the
restless sparrows chirped upon the
wau
And faint far music on her ears did f^, ,
And from the trees within, the pink-foot
told their wearj' tale unto their
Still
say.
And all seemed peaceful more th<m w , •< Keep
Then she, whose heart stdl wh p
>
Was drawn by strong desire

^ toward the greenest glade she ^ch am , j
Murmuring, “ Alas and what a
I
summer s green ry
That 1 sho^d hear the
Yea, and is death now still.”
Mhen lonely through the world th°5e an^^
groves.
es
But when she Nvas amidst moaning do\
Mhosc close green leaves aud seemed.
Shut out the world, then so . dreamed.
life
So strange, her former -
drew her on ;
she had won.
fears
Beside the hopes and
graen pl^
Till so far tlirough that cou
garden
Tliat she a rosc-hedged
chase. Park.
; ;
2 oS STORY POEMS FROM JIORRIS

Before a made beautiful with gold ;
Iioti'C
And o’er the hedge beheld the heads of girls
Embraced by garlands fresh and orient pearls.
And heard sweet voices mumturing ; then a tlirill
Of utmost joy all memory seemed to kill
Of good or c\’il, and her eager hand
W'as on tlic wicket, then her feet did stand
Upon new flowers, the while her dizzied eyes
Gazed wildly round on half-seen mysteries.
And wandered from unnoting face to face.
For round a fountain 'midst tlie llorvcr}' place
Did she behold full many a minstrel girl
While nigh them, on tlic grass in giddy whirl.
Bright raiment and white limbs and sandalled feet
Flew round in time unto the music sweet.
But when a little Psyche's ej’cs grew clear,
A sight they saw that brought back all her fear
A hundredfold, though neitlicr heaven nor earth
To such a fair sight elsewhere could give birth ;
Because apart, upon a golden throne

Of maia'cllous work, a woman sat alone.
Watching the dancers u-ith a smiling face,
\Vhose beauty sole had lighted up the place.
A' crown there was upon her head •,her feet
—
Lay amid roses all, how kind she seemed !
What depths of love from out her grey e3'’es beamed.

Well might the birds leave singing on tlie trees
To iratcb in peace tliat crorni of goddesses.
Yet well might Ps5xhe sicken at the sight.
And feel her feet wax heavy, her head light
For now at last her evil da}' was come.
Since she had wandered to the very home
Of her most cruel and bitter enemy.
Half-dead, yet must she turn about to flee.
But as her ej'es back o'er her shoulder gazed,
And ivith weak hands her clinging gown she raised.
And from her lips unwitting came a moan,
!
Shefi ,
AND PSYCHE 209
And about her body thrown,
Saw flnoj- haled along till she
riiat vi
faint eyes dizzily
fbe Pni
pearls and roses fresh,
1
carpet and the ros5' flesh.
Th^
V swpil’
strove to make some sound,
Vith 1
r seemed to pierce the air aroimd
iKp
her doom rang in her ears,
;
Cn -u P •
that lacketh tears.
damsels, and the pearl behold
Tln/v,^
That 11
^ price ? See now the thrice tried gold,
Tn K worshipped, that a god would have
ue his bride
how like a wretched slave
!
down, and lacketh even voice

To^
_ plead her cause Come, damsels, and rejoice,
!
'at now
once more the waiting world will move,
ace she is found, the well-loved soul of love !
And thou, poor wretch, what god hath led tliee

. here ?
Art thou so lost in this abyss of fear,
thou canst not weep th}' misery and shame ?
tanst tliou not even speak thy shameful name ? ”
But even then the flame of fcm'cnt love
In Psyche’s tortured heart began to move.
And gave her utterance, and she said, “ Alas 1
surely the end of life has come to pass
cor me, who have been bride of I'crj’’ Love,
ret love still bides in me, O
Seed of Jove,
Por such I know thee ; slay me, nought is lost
Por had I had Uie will to count the cost
And buy my
love witli all tliis misery\
Thus and no otherwise tlie thing should be.
Would I were dead, my
uTetclied beauty gone.
"
No trouble now to thee or any one 1
And with that last word did she hang her head.
As* one who hears not. whatsoe'er is said ;
But Venus rising with a dreadful crj’
Said. “ O thou fool, I will not let Uiec die !
14
210 STORY POEMS FKOJt MORRIS
But thou shalt reap the harvest thou hast sown
And many a day thy WTetclicd lot bemoan.
Thou art my slave, and not a day shall be
But I will find some fitting task for thee,
Nor will I slay tiice till thou hop'st again,
Wiat, thinkest thou that utterly in vain
Jove is m3’ sire, and in despite m\’ will
That thou canst mock me with tlW beantt' still ?
Come forth, O strong-armed, punish this new slave.
That she henceforth a humble heart may have.”
All round about the damsels in a ring
Were drami to see the ending of the thing,
And now as Ps3’che’s et’cs stared nildl}’ round
No help in an3'’ face of them she found
As from the fair and dreadful face she turned
In whose grey 03-05 suclt steadfast anger burned ;
Yet tnidst her agony she scarcely knew

What thing it was the goddess bade them do,
And all the pageant, like a dreadful dream
Hopeless and long-enduring grew to seem.
But when her breaking heart again waxed hot
With dreadful tlioughts and pra3’ers unspeakable
As all their bitter torment on her fell,
YTien she her ow-n voice heard, nor knew its sound,
And like red flame she saw the trees and ground,
Then first she seemed to know what misery
To helpless folk upon the earth can be.
Above sat Venus, calm, and passing fair.
And gazed v-ith gentle eyes, and unmoved smile.
At last to tliem some dainty sign she made
To hold their cruel hands, and therewith bade
To bear her slave new gained from out her sight
And keep her safely till the morrow’s light
So her across the sunny sward the3' led
With fainthig limbs,' and heavy dov-ncast head.
And into some nigh lightless prison cast
To brood alone o’er happy da3^s long past
And all the dreadful times that yet should be.
CUPID AND PSYCHE 21 1
But she being gone, one moment ]5cnsively

goddess did the distant hilE boiiold,
Pi<ti
Then bade her girls bind up her hair of gold,
And ‘g.ainst the hard earth arm her lovely feet :
llien she went forth, some shepherd king to meet

Drep in the hollow of a shaded vale.
To make his woc'i a long enduring tale.
;
212 STORY POEMS n?OM MORRIS

And manv another brought from far-off lands,
M'hich mingling more with swift and read}' Iiands
They piled into a heap confused and great.
And then said Venus, rising from her seat,
" Slave, here I leave thee, but before tiic night
Tliesc mingled seeds thy hands shall set aright.
.All laid in heaps, each niter its oum kind,
And if in any heap I ch.ince to find
An alien seed, thou knowest since yesterda}’
How disobedient staves the forfeit pay.”
Therewith she turned and left the palace fair
And from its outskirts rose into the air.
And flew until beneath her lay tlie sea,
Tlien, looking on its green waves lovingly.
Somewhat she dropped, and low adowm she flew
Until she reached the temple that she knew
Within a sunny bay of her fair isle.
But Psyche sadly labouring all the while

With hopeless heart felt the swaft hours go b}',
And knowing weU what bitter mockerjf
Lay in that task, yet did she what she"might
That something should be finished ere tlic night.
And she a little mercy yet might ask ;
But the first hours of that long feverish task

Passed amid mocks for oft tlie damsels came.
;
About her, artd made merry' with her shame.

And laughed to see her trembling eagerness.
And how, wth some small lappet of her dress.
She winnowed out tlie wheat, and how she bent
Over tire millet, hopelessly' intent
And how she guarded well some tiny heap
But just begun, from their long raiments' sweep :
But at the last these left her labouring.

Not daring now to weep, lest some small thing ,
Should 'scape her blinded eyes, and soon far off

She heard the echoes of their careless scoff.
Longer tire shades grew, quicker sank the sun.
Yot make no haste, but ere the sun is down
Cast it before my feet from out thy gowm ;
Surely thy labour is but light to-day."

Then sadly went poor Psyche on her way.
Wondering wherein the snare lay, for she knew
No easy thing it was she had to do ;
Nor had she failed indeed to note the smile

Ylicrewith the goddess prai«cd her for tlic guile
Idiat she, unhappy, lacked so utterly.
Amidst tliose thoughts she crossed the flowcr3' lea,
.\iid came unto the glittering river’s side ;
And, seeing it w;is neither deep nor wide.
She drew her sandals off, and to the knee
Girt up her goum, and by a willow-tree
Went down into the water, and but sank
Up to mid-leg therein ; but from the bank
She scarce had gone three steps, before a voice
Called out to her, " Stay, Psyche, and rejoice
Tliat I am here to help thee, a poor reed,
Tlie sootlicr of the loving hearts that bleed,
The pourer forth of notes, that oft have made
Tire weak man strong, and the rash man afraid.
“ Sweet child, when by me now thy' dear foot trod,
I knew thee for the loved one of our god ;
Then prithee take rny counsel in good part
Go to the shore again, and rest thine heart
In sleep awhile, until the sun get low.
And then across the river shalt thou go
And find these e\dl creatures sleeping fast.
And on tire bushes whereby they' have passed
Much golden wool take what seems good to thee.
;
And ere the sun sets go back easily^.

But if within that mead thou sett'st thy feet
Ydiile y'et they wake, an ill death shalt tliou meet.
For they are of a cursed man-hating race.
Bred by a ânt in a lightless place."
But at these words soft tears filled Psyche s eyes
As hope of love witliin her heart did rise
, , j
CUPID AXD PSYCHE

And when she saw she was not helph’ss n cl
Her old desire she wonld not quite forgcl ,
But turning back, upon the bank she lay

Iti happv dreams till nigh the end
of day ,
Dk'ii did <-hc cross and gather of

And with her bosom and her gown-skirt tun
Came back to Venus at the svnr-scttmg ,
But she afar off saw it glistering

And cried aloud. " Go. take the slave ava\
Atid keep her safe for yet another
da\
And on the monting will I thmk agam
punt
flfsomc fresh task, since with so liitlc
f'he dnt'th wlial the gixls find Bard emm .
w.
For since the winds wen- plc.ased this
Viitn mv door, a fool 1 were tndtrd, ^
If I shot'ild fail to u-e her for my

n.-e<i
So hi r they kd away front that

Xow se.\rce more h.op>'fu! that the tas * ,
st,c knew .nh
-1
Since hv those hitt. r %vords
Aitulher tale the comiitg day
would t, ii.
CUPID AND PSYCHE
—
217
servant, friend of Love,
And acv straightway towards her flew,
and when he knew,
For said, “ Cease all thy fear.
fj!
And fill vf J^lack waves I thy ewer will bear,

remember me,
l\Tipn
TVi en ^ come
straight
he
unto thy majesty.”
and through
flew, the dragons'
W êlessly, nor feared their clatterings,
^wer, filled, in her right hand,
on that day saw many another land.
Then Ps5'che through the night toiled back again,

^0 as she went, she thought, “ Ah 1 all is vain,
once more I just escape indeed,
ct hath she
many another rvUl at need ;
^“Jô these days when I my life first learn,
With unavailing longing shall I turn,
oen this that seemeth now so horrible
ohall then seem but the threshold of her hell.
âs what shall I do ? for even now
!
In sleep I see her pitiless white brow,

And hear the dreadful sound of her commands,
nfliile with my helpless body and bound hands
I tremble underneath the cruel whips ;
And oft for dread of her, with quivering lips_
I wake, and Avaking know the time draws nigh
Yflien nought shall wake me from that misery
Behold, O Love, because of thee I live.
Because of thee, with tliese things still I strive.”
Now Avith tlie risen sun her AveaQ^ feet

The fresh-strewn roses of the floor did meet
Upon the marble threshold of the place ;
But she being brought before the matchless face.

Fresh AAith tlie new life of anotlicr day,
Belield her Avondering, for tlie goddess lay
ST OK
c^’oKV POEMS FKOM :M0RRIS
2t8 ^,cd.
e\ c head,
With ^ J ccarccly turned her
5>hc ‘
good to thee.
.\nd wlu-n ‘V.' -j-j^c gods
arc
But smiling ^ be mine enemy
thee with to-da>
;
Tôr Shalt ^^J^^l'cl.argc

t.
Hut one luort. . thou tht' 'vaj
For un^® «shct to her hands,

ilns lands
And gi''C the ^cn ot the gloomy
rare
And pray that beauty
To fill tire '’o’^^^foucen
qnc did set her there :
Tliat long ago thing,

this new
bTir necdcsl tho« ^ ‘j^cart and u-it to
bnng
tl
\Mio hast to-daj return alive ;
Tliis dreadful ’,
t the more
in this thing stnve,
And, show at last
I( thou retumest
1 '1
^ tlie past
My kindness nnto >
^ jjrcam.”
Shalt thou r'‘="’5^t to Psyche did it seem
And now at nr- .
to her, and the thought
Her heart '"S h to sobbing, and it
brought
Swelled her fuU c> jjaif-happy tears ;
Into her yenmmg and dreadful fears

But on her heart- ^gr
im^^who indeed could teach
.
Rose in her Kiai

A living soul •
^d^^
^t seemed
And yet < dreamed.
tjgt^tly
The hope of that triumphant smile.
And she rememb .. ttnal wale.
And needs ftr a goddess take
Alas what
! heart to break.
So weak a thnj?‘ tower ffrom off its top will I
itJ™,
heap;
no. cease .0
219
CUPID AKD PSYCHE
Farewell, 0 Love, for thee and life I weep.
Alas, my foolish heart alas, iny sin ”
!
1
Alas, for all tlic love 1 could not win !
this tower both old enough and

Eow was grey,
Built by some king forgotten many a day,
And no man dwelt there, now that bitter war
From that bright land had long been driven atar ,
Tliere now she entered, trembling and afraid ,
laid
But ’neath her doubtful steps the dust long
In utter rest, rose up into the air, .
And wavered in the wind that dowm the stair

pace,
Rushed to the door then she drew back a
;
Gloved by the coldness of the lonely place

That for so long had seen no ray of sun.
Then shuddering did she
“ Have Biou
Like a wind’s moaning voice,
The hollow words of one long slain to hear
Thou Uvest, and tliy hope is not yet dead. tread
And if thou heedest me, thou well may st
The road to heU, and yet return ^ plain
“ For thou must go o’er many a hill and
Until to Sparta thou art come at
last.
passed
And when the ancient city thou hast
A mountain shalt thou reach, tliat rn w:^
Great Tienarus, tliat riseth like a
tod
'Trvixt plain and upland, tlierem shalt
and blind,
The wide mouth of a cavern huge
AATierein there cometh never any sun, _
Whose dreadful darkness

thm^hving s ,
This shun thou not, but yet take have ^

alive to save.
Three honey-cak^ thy soul
And in thy mouth a piece of money set.
through the dark go boldly, and forget
Then hell, ^d
The stories thou hast heard of deathaU be well.
words, and then shaU
Ito heeTmy
to heU.
be one of the entrances
Where was supposed toGreece.
in the extreme south of
220 STORY POEMS FROJT ^MORRIS
" For whi.'ij tliou bast passed through that cavern
blind,
A place of dim grey meadows shalt thou find.
Wherethrough to inmost Iicll a path doth lead,
Wdiich follow thou, with diligence and heed ;
T'or as thou goest there, thou soon shalt see
Two men like pe.osants loading painfully
A fallen a.'^s ; these unto thcc will cal!
To help them, but give thou no liccd at all.
But pass them swiflh' ; and then soon again
Within a shed three crones shalt thou see plain
Busily weaving, who shall bid tln'c leave
The road and fill their shuttles while tliey weave.
But slacken not thy steps for all their prayers,
For these are shadows onl}’. and set snarek
*‘
At last thou comest to a water wan,
And at tlie bank shall be the fcrntTnan
Surly and grej' ; and when lie askctli thee
Of money for thy passage, hastily
Show liim and straight from off th)’
thj' m'outli, lip
The money he take, and in his ship
tvill
Embark thee and set forward ; but beware.

For on thy passage is another snare :
From out the waves a giisiybead sbaii come.

Most like thy father thou hast left at home.
And praj'’ for passage long and piteously.
But on thy life of him have no pitj'.
Else art thou lost ; also thy fatJier lives.
And in the temples of tlie high gods gives
Great daily gifts for thy returning home.
“ \\Ticn tliou unto the other side art come,
A palace shalt thou see of fiery gold.
And by the door tliereof shalt thou behold
An ugly triple monster, that shall yell
For thine undoing now behold liim well,
;
And into each mouth of him cast a cake.

The ferryman, Charon. Triple monster. The dog Cerberus.
; ; ;

And
Atifi
of thee then shall he take,
pass into a gloriotis hall
^^Tierr niany
Pnt Jar
a wonder hangs tipon the ^\alI
more wonderful than anj’thing,
consort of the gloomy King,
Affayed all ror^lly
shalt tliou behold.
° on a can'on throne of gold,
\\T
thou cntcrcst shall rise up to thee,
A
bid thee welcome there most lo\angly,
^d pray thee on a royal bed to sit,
share her feast cat thou not of it,
yet ca
;
“t sitting on tlic ground cat bread alone,
tnen do thy message kneeling by her throne
;
^nd when thou hast the gift, return with speed ;
ê sleepy dog of thee shall take no heed,
t he ferrjman shall bear thee on thy way
*?°ht more svords, and thou shalt sec the da}'
tt
Unharmed if that dread box thou openest not
tjdt if thou dost, then death shall be thy lot.
‘
0 beautiful, svhen safe thou com’st again,
Remember me, who he here in sucli pain
Unburied set mo in some tomb of stone,
;
Wien thou hast gathered every little bone ;
But never shalt thou set tliereon a name.

Because my ending was \nth grief and shame,
Who was a Queen like thee long years agone.
And in this lower so long have lain alone ”
Then, pale and full of trouble. Psyche -went
Bearing the casket, and her footsteps bent
To Lacedsemon, and tlience found her way
To Trenarus, and there the golden day _
For that dark cavern did she leave behind

Then, going boldly through it, did she find
The shadoivymeads whidh that -wide way ran through.
The fair sUm coitsotif Pro^rpina, wife of King Pluto.
Under a seeming sky ’twixt grey and blue ;
No wind blow Ibcrc, tlierc was iio bird or tree.
Or beast, and dim grey flowers she did but see
Tliat never faded in tl'iat changeless place.
And if she had but sc'cn a living face
Most strange and bright she would have thought it
there
Or if her own face, troubled yet so fair.
The still pools by the roadside could liave shown
The dimness of tiiat place she might have known ;
But their duU surface cast no image back.
For .all but dreams of light that land did lack.
So on she p.asscd. still noting everything.
Nor yet had she forgotten tlierc to bring
The honey-cakes and money : in a while
She saw those shadows striving hard to pile
Tlie b.alcs upon the ass. and heard tlicm call,
" O woman, help us for our skill is sm.all
1
And we arc feeble in this place indeed " ;
But swiftly did she p.ass, nor gave tlicm heed,

Tlioiigli after her from far their cries they sent.
Then a long way adowm that road she went
Not seeing aught, till, as the Shade h.ad said,
She came upon three women in a shed
Busily w'caving. who cried, “ Daughter, leave
The beaten road a w'hile, and as we wea^'e
Fill thou our shuttles witli these endless threads.
For here our eyes are sleepy, and our heads
Are feeble in this miserable place."
But for their words she did but mend her pace.
Although her heart beat quick as she passed by.
Then on she wunt, until she could espj'

The wan, grey river lap the leaden bank
Mherefrom there sprouted sparsel}^ sedges rank.
And there the road had end in tiiat sad boat
Wherein the dead men unto Minos float
Jl/iHos, One of the judges in bell.
CUPID AND PSYCHE
Tfere stood the
ierryman, who now, seeing 1
u living soul, that thus among the dead
nast come, on whatso errand, without fear,
ôw thou that penniless none passes here ;
1 M the coins that rich men have on earth

io buy thee dreadful folly thei call mirth,
foUy they the
they
OIIG 'tVi P.\7 keep when they have passed
Lve
that o’er this
stream a passage they may have ,
^d thou, though living, are but dead to me,

Vno here, irnTnr^W-nl
WnollGrp. immortal, caa
see mortality .
«ss, stripped of this last thing that men desire,

bnto the changeless meads or changele^ nre.
^psechless she showed the money on”her uci *Up
^ ’
uTiich'straight he took, and set her in the sUip,

uTiich
And then the wretched, heavy oars he threw
into the rowlocks and the flood they drew ,
bilent, with eyes that looked beyond her tace.
He laboured, and they left the ieary place.
But midmost of that water did arise
A dead man, pale, with ghastly starmg ey
That somewhat like her father still did s ,
But in such wise as figures in a dream ,

Then ivith a lamentable voice it ^ned,
“ 0 daughter, I am dead, and m hde
For ever shall I drift, an unnamed thmg,
Who was thy fatlier once, a mighty long,
Unless thou takest pity on me now,
his
And bidd'st the ferryman turn here p _
That vwth thee to some abode

I
may cros .
And little unto thee will bo the loss
And unto me the gmn wiU be
To sucli a place as I may
Being now but dead light."
'T\vixt awe and Im-e bemeith those eyes she .
False pity inovi d lu-r \on- larirt, .dtiiough

Tlic guile of W'mi'- she f.ulcd not to Imow,
But lieliter round ihe casket clasp.d herhP-nds,
And shut her cn i-s. remttniKnnc the commands
01 that dead queen : so s,>fc to land she came.
And there in that tjrev country, like a flame

Before her up the house of gold,
et'cs ro'c
And at tfie gate she met the beast threefold,
Who ran to meet her optm-moiithed. but she
Unto Iris jaws the cakes cast cunningly,
But trembling much then on the ground he
:
lay
Lolling his heads, and let her go her way ;
And so she came into the mighty hall.
And saw those wonders hanging on the wall.
That all rnth {xiincgranates was covered o’er
In memoiy of the meal on this sad shore,
WTrereby fair Enna was bewopt in vain.
And this became a kingdom and a chain.
But on a throne, the Queen of all the dead
She saw tlicrein with gofd-cmbraced head.
In royal raiment, beautiful and pale ;
Then with slim hands her face did Psj’clie veil

In worship of her, who " Welcome here,
said,
O messenger of Venus thou art dear
!
To me thyself indeed, for of thy grace

And loveliness we know e’en in this place ;
Rest thee then, fair one, on this royal bed,

And with some dainty food shalt tliou be fed ”
;
Ho, ye who wait, bring in the tables npw 1
Tlierervith were brought things glorious of

snow
On doths and tables royally besecn,
Ema, A town fa Sicilr, from near whicJi
nuro-
flowery meadow, was carried oft to be wife to m jov\-cr
eaten
she ate part of a pomegranate, and so, having agmn.s
world, though sfie did gain entrj' to Olympus v
to spend one-third of every year with
henceforth
CUPID APJD PSYCIiE
^'damsels a queen,
each one fairer than
veiy latchets
whose shoes were worth
of
06 royal
crown of any queen on earth ;
ot ^hen
upon them Psyche looked, she saw
Oat all these
dainty matters without flaw , „
»6re strange hues,
of shape and of strange-blended
âvery cup and plate did she refuse ,
han^ brought to her, and she sai ,

'•
nA
Queen, to me amidst my awe and
things are nought, my message is not <1 >
^ me rest upon this cold grey stone,

let
while my eyes no higher than thy feet

Are Ufted,
eat the food that mortals eat.
Therewith upon the floor she sat her do^
from the folded bosom of her go''?} t a gyes
flrew forth her bread and ate, while \yith coiu j

Regarding her ’bvixt anger and surpns^
queen sat silent for awhfle, thun sp >
Why art thou here, wisest of livmg m

corn
Jepart in haste, lest thou shorddst
myself a helpless thing and shadovw .
Give me the casket then, thou need s , ;
the
therefore thou thus hast passed jiave
Bide there, and for thy mistress sh^ save.”
The charm that beauty from eh g hand
^ Then Psyche rose,
and
Gave her the casket, and awhile d
Then sighing scarcely '^’Bd sh more.
When mth the casket came the ttas
q shao
^ladowy
shore
And said. “ Haste now to leave
Before thou changest ; even uo' look’st on
m
Thine eyes are growing gVe.
E’en as the linnet looks ^P?’iûre take.
t
Behold, thy wisoly-guMded jôve „
And let thy breath of life
memories past
P
love.
The shadows %vith the
hcU.
STORY POEMS
ai 1 -^t
Turned erU .
• .
Bearing that J ,^^^„„,tur lay.

ic P
Ilarmlci^. a- » .
dicl,tl.cy ll>»‘
S“ S'SSl.tSd tny lhcr
leaden water back
Over Sc tbuse women ben ^
pain
1
Vnr <;aw ilic more fallen a^S
n JStl efr woavine or the
she p^s
.
Sm sSy PP tie ere>- road did the

^to >
And wcll-niRh ii. as was come the u. >
Bvhollow 1 a'u.iru-^, but o cr _
all un^n^.^
tL wing- of Eiu y l>roodcd
t^d fai
BecauM' mde.-d ilie cruel
Knew well how she had sped
.so nh^ breast,
pressed,
bo
Against the wiiich the dreadful ,,
gSw up at last this foolish.

hat c «S!jKght
Beludd how far this beauty
• I
'
To give unto bitter cnerny

my ,
Might I a very goddess be

not still .
goddesses des re^

If this were mine "diich
swift consiiming lire,
Yea. what if this hold
me to me,
Wliy do I think it good for
Tliat I my body once again m^y gi
“m„ j
Into her êl hands-ôme f 1
And give me end to all the bi .
Ji^g
Tlmrewith down by the ^ystde it
And turned the box hanp, undid
trembling
But at the last, witli _
The dasp. and fearfully ber head

not. for her
But what was tliere she saw bieinberca
FeU back, and notliing she
f t she had,
her life, yet nought of rf
Of all
Tlie hope of which makes hapl"^^ sleep
For while her limbs were sunk A .^^cep
Most like to deaft, over her
îstr^
HI dreams so tliat ;
She would have cried, but

m j.?elplessness
her ne p ^
;

odd open not her mouth, or frame a word
;
mough the threats of mocking things she heard,
seemed, amidst new forms of horror bound,
strange endless armies mo\dng round,
iT^th all their sleeplesseyes still fixed on her,
no from that changeless
place should never stir,
ovele^ she lay, and in that dreadful sleep
•^ce had the strength some few slow tears to weep.
And there she would have lain for evermore,

niarble image on the shadowy shore
y
yJJ.°^tward seeming,but within oppressed
u ith torments, knowing neither hope nor rest.
ns she lay the Phoenix flew along
P
^mg to
.
Egj^Dt, and knew all her wrong,

Ptied her, beholding her sweet face,
A j
A j T
nnd told him of her case
tn guerdon of the tale he told,
ru
^hanged all the feathers of his neck to gold,
^d he flew on to Egypt glad at heart,
hut Love liimself gat s\viftly for his part
lo rocky Taenarus, and found her there
haid half a frulong from the outer air.
But at tliat sight outburst the smothered flame
^love, when he remembered all her shame,
The stripes, the labour, and tire vTetched fear,
^d kneeling down he whispered in her ear,
‘Rise, Psyche, and be mine for evermore,
^r evil is long tarrying on this shore."
Then when she heard him, straightway she arose,
And from her fell the burden of her woes ;
And yet her heart -witlrin her weU-nigh broke,

Ydrcn she from grief to happiness awoke ;
And loud her sobbing was in tliat grey place.

The Phartiix,A fabulous bird, the only one of its in Arabia^
living a certain space of j-cacs mahes ti m
flaps its -ivings to set it alight, burns itself to ashes,
ana u,en
comes forth iiith new life to repeat its career.
<;T0RY poems l-ROM MORRIS
covered up her face.
f"'-,
all wet wth tears, he Kissed,
« ( li-r deiic hand',
*'
{],y
fimplcness have no more shame ;
11 'll lia-st
heen tried, and cast away all blame
sea of wih*s that thou didst bear,
1 to Ihe
pain, the h<)pele<bncss. the fear
llic biricr
jj^jpen a little, loved with boundless love
_j\tnidst them ;ill —
but now the shadows move
Iâst toward the west, earth's day is well-nigh done.
One toil thou hast yet ; by to-morrow’s sun
Knee] the last time before my mother’s feet,
llty task accomplished ; and my heart, O sweet,
Shall go with tlicc to case tltj- toilsome way :
Farewell awhile but that so glorious day
!
I promised thee of old, now conteth fast,

When even hope tliy soul aside shall cast,
Amidst the joy that thou shaJt surely v.in.”
So saying, till that sleep he shut within
'The dreadful casket, and aloft lie flew, .
But slowlj’ she unto the cavern drew

Scarce knoiring if she dreamed, and so she came
Unto the earth where yet the sun did flame
Low down between the pine-trunks, tall and red.
And with its last beams kissed her golden head.
With what words Love unto the Father prayed
Iknow not, nor what deeds the balance wdghed ;
But tliis I know, tliat he prayed not in vain.

And Psyche’s life the heavenly crown shall gain ;
So roimd about messenger was sent

tlie
To tell immortals of their King’s intent.
And bid them gather to the Father’s hall.
But while tliey got them ready at his caU,
On through the night was Psyche toiling still, •
To whom no pain nor weariness seemed ill

;

Since now once more she knew
•D , KUCW herself
ueibCii beloved
uciuv^:;u. ;
,
ut vên the
unresting world again had moved
T°+t! i
So^'ên day, she came again
^ place where she had borne such pain,
:û flushed and joyful in despite her fear,
. goddess did she draw anear,
knelt adoivn before her golden seat,
;^jnng the fatal casket at her feet
nen at the first no word the Sea-bom said,
ut looked afar over
her golden head,
upon the mighty deeds of fate ;
Wnile Psyche stUl, as one who well may wait,

^nelt, calm and motionless, nor said a word,
“Ut ever thought of her sweet lovesome lord.
At last the Queen said, “ Girl, I bid thee rise,
ôr now hast thou found favour in mine eyes ;
^d I repent me of the misery
mat in this place thou hast endured of me,
^though because ofit, thy joy indeed
bhall now be more, that pleasure is thy meed.
'Hien bending, on 'the forehead did she kiss
Pair Psyche, who turned red for shame and bliss ;
But Venus smiled again on her, and said.

Go now, and bathe, and be as weU arrayed
As thou shouldst be, to sit beside my son
1 think thy life on earth is weU-nigh done.”
So thence once more was Psyche led away.

And cast into no prison on that day.
But brought unto a bath beset with flowers,
Made dainty with a fount’s sweet-smeUing show ers,
And there being bathed, e’en in such fair attire
As veils the glorious Mother of Desire _
Her limbs were veiled, tlien in the wavermg shaae.

Amidst the sweetest garden ivas she laid.
And while the damsels round her watch did keep.
At last she closed her iveary eyes in sleep,
•And w oke no more to earth, for ere the day
.TORY
STOiv rOEMS EROî
'i i
, [ay
: .?;- Wf^STSSy
Ui VO V <tiU. '“y ;
Mti<t fall a-''‘
{^,)d hor woe and misep'.
WTio late \ \ iov unspeakable
Must l(Kivc wounded spirit fell 1
think of it in vain
I in- to
. .
Ala-s attuned to tears and pain,

'•
‘
novcr-cmling <lny !
hS,S.S i ri»S the
hand of I-ovo she took her way
1 ed bv tlie
heavenly trees,
T- o vale beset with
al\ tlvc gatlicrcd
gods and goddesses
'Sc Sr coming : but when Ps>-die saw
awe
S
^'âthcr’s face, she fainting uath her up.
^ fSSn
ThS
St
Ulat Love's arm held her
broiVt tlm cup-betmer a golden
hand,
cup.
A J «;et it in her slender
dread and wonder she did stand,
Md while in awfid voice smote on her ear,
Father's
and have no fear
^rink now, O beautiful,
Shalt Uiou be born again.
1
pS^ddi tliis draught from care and pam.

And live for ever free
™ 1. .e nrivet took she heart to drink,
A^SteAlhal most rtrango now thoughts did think.
Sudden jj^d done on earth.
Of
Altliough
SmaU W it Qeemed changed in weight and worth,
„ CTcat, and great things small
•
h.i tlierlw-hhal
rot?*SS?«»todspintM.
Then in that concourse did she lift her head,
And stood at last a very goddess there,
And all cried out at seeing her grown so fair.
So while in heaven quick passed the time avay,

Atrout the ending of that lovely daj'.
Bright shone the low sun over all the earth
For joy of such a wonderful new birth.
epilogue
the author
later life of
an.Udng so sfro^nj as
God for nrafdng
.les.
. I
an onion.’ , _Thougli now thirty-six,
bodily
Ilis Slrc>igl>> of his cxulêmnce
Morris had describing passenger
fun. when
or mental. J“®Vc-cumbcred the gangtvay of a
off
staggertfS characteristic of him to
was
Channel stcame ,
. a chair under each arm
action to
and
words
picldng up
a
1
^ ôal with liis teetli. Indwd,
^Lat he could bite almost
ti
nglit
^veê so strong
S^th ^ ^
m
trough ';?°^rhardness to that of the Miller s
_ y-^r-nnd. only 1 un-
iMirct fTiroiipli tin*
^rsecond if tlm
__
Succr: and ...t least butt

a
And
Seldy doo?! and think notlring of it.
hole ^
^ an outlet, which his vanous
crafts
SstrengtL^f J^^^ystronk. was a most tender
^,mrtdcd-
provi .. Next Way when I turned up,” wote a
of Psyche. l
Id?”', " he read us a work
his
thing
he was speaking
I took it
that sort of hands of Venus.
Jung PsgL^Î was evidently glad it was
would have
. r„„trarv to what one
^'^fisObscrvalion.-ConU^
EPILOGUE 233
expressionless, with Giat far-
• ); look one sees in those of a commander-
eagle. Burne-Jones was not deceived
“ ^yere the eyes of an observer of genius,
ey say nothing to you, nor
much look at you, but
be
If
_ -.'Avv/ivf, Awyi. iit; vôHl

nave much to do, to make, and to see. And first, as
e —
wanted a country home ^for he had left tlie Red
House after five years and settled in London he took
a most beautiful
—
old place on a rivulet beyond a lonely
îage awajf in west Oxfordslure namely, Kelmscott
Manor House, all gabled and gardened, and full of
—
n-uzabethan memories, " a heaven on cartli.” And he
Was supremely happy tliere, renewing his old affection
lor. all natuml
tlungs. “ O me O me ” he ex- ! !
claimed. " How I love the earth, and the seasons,

^d weather and all things tliat deal with it, and all
ttat grows out of it If I could but sa}- or show how
!
I love ”
it !
His Vikhig Spirit.

at tins satisfaction of
—His heart and filled with gladness
his softer, more
liis dreams,
dreamy nature needing no further outlet for the
moment, he began then to give expression to tlie
Viking spirit that had already shown itsdf in The
Lovers of Gndrim. First learning tlie Icelandic tongue,
he and liis teacher, one Eiriki Magnilsson, and some
otliers. went to Iceland. Au*e-inspiring scenes x>rc-
pared his mind for Oic treatment of tlie terrible r and
m 1S73, so much had his first visit inspired lum, he
went out again. Translating Icehindic sagas (or old
heroic legends), he wrote in a more and more purely
Anglo-Saxon whid) in its best moments was a
stvle,
new and powerful instrument for ixictic expression.
fpilogue .
Iiis Korsc masterpiec ,
he produc«l
Vipirdthc Romances, and conUnuin^_
^franslaUons, "
îp activities were
this time,
his ‘
new interests arose.
tiat^ “!ftrSri.S''^rprosê! S ^ as
in whidi
.Sal future no
money, fio^t n:^^ mor ,
time anti
uclv work,
mad -
again,
Chaucer should come must be
lone work last
but the
The
mentioned, and
^
that
^,
P
‘Igi
^ j^yg loved
jts
illummated
on-n : the I'êlm
been one of
Sol rt«s- and priS. aid it had
P
Manuscripts
ambitions to ^ ai beautifully
should prc^"f
pnntcd, iuu=
pnntca. lUus
-J"”’ tmôs b
liis
.and bound, as
in
in modem ^'"'‘îUllhiminated,
jyjjj„inated, and
•
woodcuts^Û^^,^^
Sated with
.^gcs-
1
he finally started at
H^mer-
the Middle ,1
typo-t^^^ge^ (so caUed alter his pxford-
ine original
Snitli the t^‘^^â'^°lcluccd books
unequalled in tlieir
shire home), and p reverence for his m:«ter, he
great edition of Chaucer,
time for ^’^^’'^rilpted
oomp t a
hSicd to see ^rne- Jones. But
after
by Sw
I&tcdhealth he feared his hop^
might
Nonvay,
trSi his
A] êv to North Cape,
realized. continued working as
not be bim.
_
w^
the Chaucer
restore
fSed to _ „ht. tn
laueu J
„vprv delav. People
ne have it aU reaay. i u
oVrinE an enci, wouM h e « every da;^
”^^d when he
to-momo ;
.
too many,
Si?(^Snished it n {^
hf^®
„j to-morrow that temper to tlie utmost.
to
Four inouiuy
EPILOGUE 235
at a standstill. ” But on the 8th of
':^liaucer
lay the printing
was completed, and Morris’s life’s
work was done.
painlessly, at Hammersmith, on the 3rd
Y- t°Der i8g6, and was buried three days later in
,
velmscott churchyard. No man had ever lived a
fuller life.
questions on “JASON”
Contexts: into the ordinary
I. J asm:
£SoKnc«S indicate Uicit

outcome.
speech^ o^
” Arg“5is «'ith «» »• *>'«
tlic “•
Harpies to i crgne of Machdh.
of .Jason up
to to
Deseri^^
sj Tiincfrate witli 3- skctcli map.
Salmydessa.
outward ioumey did Jason
“
reaching
“'
Kochs.
^
'Iw the
adventure oi the ClaEhing
Desenbe ^ a natural way ?
7 .
uocou ^^t for it in of Book
could you
How Summarwe t ôription, ^
Show its diief quahties,
8 .g^fgg
VI of the composed.
witlm' toll put
Wtlie art ô which Jason was
wfo acqmt himseU ?
0 What
t]f fôw did he
“’“S''
Hd^'S'l^hSSSne. »”A
for Jason
vhrow of
Argo out of the question
S'” “•
toreiS°w'S'?i“"'“‘£.”’“'
EPILOGUE 237
12. Describe the adventures of the Argonauts be-
ween fte Black Sea and the Baltic.
Outline the ioumev between the Baltic and
Circe’s isle.
Summarize Orpheus’s song, " O death, tliat
maketh life so sweet.’’
I5-. \%at
happened on Circe’s isle ?
Id. Contrast the songs of Orpheus and the Sirens.
17- Give an account of a Greek public offering of
^crifice^ to tlie gods. Contrast it with a Christian
thanksgi-\Tng service.
i_8. Write a
letter as from the Garden of the Hes-
^rides to relate how you came there, and what you saw.
Contrast as many of the things as you can witli what
one would probably find in a beautiful English garden.
.
IQ- Describe how Medea, appearing as an old crone,
justifies herself before Pelias. Do you find her story
convincing ?
20. Relate how Medea compassed the death of
Pelias while safeguarding her lover from blame.
21. In the Colchian wood, Artemis had threatened
Medea with retribution for her pride. Wiat shape
^d the punislrment take, and how did Medea a.venge
her Wongs ?
22. How far is Book XVII. an afterthought and a
weak point in the poetic construction ?
23- Draw up a scenario for tire story, and compose
captions as for a film.
24. Consider Jason as (a) a lover, (6) a hero.
25. Contrast tlie characters of Medea and Lady
Maebeth.
26. Render a brief account of the story as it might
have been told by Medea to tlie King of Athens.
27. Wliat do jmu learn of the Greeks, their cliaracter
and customs, from tliis story ? Give as many illus-
trations as you can of tlieir wilincss.
28. \Vhen, where, and how does Juno interv'cne in
the story ?
epilog^
Gi'-' *“ idCnd 'pi"®"
°'
W "“'"-sni"?!”"!® >° I'"
32. Take
a
P^Vctnnncd lb) run-on lines. Do
number of Psyche, and
a pas^
same witn tôlts.&
compare the „ Ûcct five otlicr
33 of adiectivône
«ri„^rpSm sJ'r ®-"

"“ 6-'"'
pression ^'[°‘^yê^°Orpheus’s song, “ O bitter s<^
of^your ONvm, be-
35-, sol
-
’’tnd compose one
tumultuous hills.
jjjpg majestic
’.
irony, illus-
betivccn sarcasm and
r'"f5ist?n'ni?ih
use
trating their ^
37- lenrth, 18 Hio grammatical structure
v}) , tn use.
inclm eacli work as
Iilorris IS jjj,,, passage from
38.
Quoting a ten^^ (E«o«c. and Macbeth
criterion,^sl^'^,^ style is as metaphoncal as Tenny-
S? JSu^SmSriail effects of Morris’s

fondness
ior
monosyllables. complete revitalization of a
40. “ m m EncUsh. PracticaUy all Greek
mîoW'^J^^Se from tt.” Give examples of such
SSetSns.^ ^^j,ole
atmosphere being dreamlike, the
—
EPILOGUE 239
(iiwnities do not shock us as impossible.” Discuss,
TOtli examples.
42. Illustrate the use of personal detail to make us
person liimself as real e.g., of the njunphs,
And landing, felt the grass and flowers blue Against
tneir unused feet."
43- Which passages in the poem would you single
out as best for {a) reflection,
(6) description, (c) action ?
44. “Argo’s journey flashes sidelights on the journey
of hfe itself."
Explain how.
45' “The Golden Fleece is the thousand complex
uesnes and ambitions of life, and their inadequacy to
satisfy.” Would you challenge this view ?
46- According to one theory, Medea is the Dawn,
me Fleece the Rays of the Sun, the dragon is Drought,
êtes is Darkness, Glauce is the broad Daylight, the
poisoned robe is Twilight, and Jason is the Sun. How
fur does this agree with the story ?
47 - What epic qualities has Jason ?
48. Morris invented (a) the woodland life of young
Jason, (6) Juno’s speech at the crossing of the Anaurus,
w) Medea’s secret mission to slay Pelias, and her
change of form. Examine these parts and consider
their value.
49- Of his style it has been said, “ It is neither fast
uor slow ; it has no falls or foam ;
no sparkle or
fr^hets. It has soft colours ; in its bed the stones
glisten. Never loud, never mute. It never reaches
the sea : just flows into the ground. It leaves the
memory of a mood rather than any distinct words. It
is the least fatiguing medium for a long story.” Make
another metaphorical description of it for yourself.
“ It is the decoration that
50. holds us. There is
fighting, and killing, and blows, but one does not
mind much who does what.” Illustrate and discuss
this opinion.
51. Howfar is Morris Uke the aesthete figured in
Tennyson’s Palace of Art I
2-10 EPILOGUE rsenirf' ^
52. Give example-'; of anacProiiPtn^ ^

Jason submits to .-Evtcs’ conditions
-
leave .
" He drank and swore tor nat b

kniglit ',
that quest "). twetrvnrs"

The requirements of good vititmtire )
53.
vevelat^
(n) subservience of incident to the
acter (f») p'lrfe-ct clearness ;
;
(r) im^rtanf
no need to account for every day, oni\ at *
.gj
is
days) (rf) the end of the story must
be ^
m
54. ;
the beginning, yet interest must be 'viiibitci
be e.
simple emotions and passions must
Jason. ^ Ttlount ®
Apply these tests to
^ .
Once when on a visit to his fnend ojgr;

Sussex, Morris growled at tlie fine May . , j^t
" I am a man of the North. I am ‘^l^^Pî-ooed H
I haa n i
the fine weather we are having here. jj.
would rain, so that I could sit indoors and tn

beating at the \snndows.'’ Bring o^t what -
^
costs about the temperament of Moms,
and ru^
to his life and poetry. .
.
ro
xtjg
Give an account of the life of Moms up
.
ce.
the na
writing of Jason. How far aas tliis jxiem
poets
P^g^'Discuss Morris’s conception of narrative
^^gyPpQ^ntangle the Greek and medieval elements
58
^
How far is Jason conventional in details ?
QUESTIONS ON “CUPID AND
PSYCHE ”
I. Account for the
reply of the oracle of Apollo,
ai^ show how it was received by
the populace.
learn from the latter of (a) the Greek
temper, Greek rehgious belief ?
(b)
the passage, " Then, smiling, towards the
place the fair Wind went
edges of the sea,” and
. . .
compose a similar piece on the wintry

East Wind.
what Psyche beheld when she woke at
° exposure on the hiUtop.
expressions would Morris use for inex- :
'WT
‘^®®‘^'^‘=tion, designing, in-
voSntanlyT^^°’^‘^"^^’
5- Describe Psyche’s discoveries
in the palace, and
the various wonders of the land and sea."
Morris’s manner on
(a) trees and their characteristics, or (b) animals
of the beasts, and find
,vW descnption is—by colour, or
hint etc
prose version of the speeches of the
together at Cilpid’s palace,
o Whaf^
sisters'?
wcked
of C»p?dS™S°0 PsyS?^*
Ml
' jg
to
of local detail
Show Mom'; ? examining the
l>y
12.
make the main kg»n.‘ t-J on the morning after
o.
picture he gives
Ht" cSlSk. P.S-ch.-,
'™r'Vl.nt rccopn. <lia W*

of Venus ? three tests, and shov
p.,.d.e's
I a.t'Ja
15. Outline . :i> .jf
how she pass, ,1 1? Pluto’s realm.

s xnsit to
t
16. D. tilH P^vche
17. Show Iku". ihei>oein en Venus.
IS Cnntr.i^t
thccharnOcrsofPsydi^^^^^^^^^
10. NMut other p" do you learn some-
,che uo
liîciie >
suU-, (.upul, \ .nus.
””
“t; y-
write captions. . •
treated in this
poem.
IS
22.Consider how JusUcc s
th ‘
you rela
23. Morris disliked
•
y](j
Milton’s pc^ms the theme
Cathedral and of
•
andgeneral
this to his diction
sueer
in these two poems ? ,„rse “ dear and
«S“d«.TSs
,
,pply <0 3.S .™

vcrseîn°tlwsc poems ? n tl,e simplicity’'
of Moms
and choice
2?. Discuss of reflection, {0)
colours, ( )
in (a) choice of r
-
. , i
"4ks.c 3
he p^l
absMct De'™** y'^Senta^y and ele-
P!?Sf&nd such statements as.

goes
mental, and
EPILOGUE 243
Such good words said he, but the tlioughts were
bad.’ ” Illustrate this, and show that it has an in-
definablepower of suggestion as its virtue.
Morris has been compared in style with (a)
29.
Chaucer, {b) Keats. By comparisons of ten-line pass-
•
ages of The Knight’s Tale, 1 he Eve of St. Agnes, and

one of these poems of Moms, examine tlie truth of
fbese comparisons.
30. " In Morris the sense of wonder was para-
mount.” Illustrate.
31- Morris is said by Mr. Noyes to have
“ a low
scale of values ” in description i c —
he employs gen- ,
eral terms and not particular. Illustrate from Ciipid

a 7 td Psyche.
32. How far is Cupid and Psyche more dramatic
than Jason ?
33- Would you guess the following passage to be by
,
Morris? my?
" And at their feet the crocus brake like fire,
Violet, amaracus, and asphodel.

”
Lotos and hhes
re-write
34- Take any page of Cupid and Psyche and
it,deliberately shortening the sentences bj'
all
punctuation and other needful adjustments.
35- How far would the follomng
epigram b3 y
make a motto for Cupid and Psyche ?
" '\31iere ignorance is bhss,
’Tis folly to be wse.”
36. Contrast the two poems in

eve^ V®" vray
element of
^7 Illustrate and enlarge on tlie
«Jsîn this poem. does it fit in ivith your idea
How
the
the story of Jlorris’s life after
The Earthly Paradise. Show how it
pubUcSion of
relates to his earher hfe.
r3RITAIS AT
^Rl^TEO IS GRTAT TUBUSHERS
THE
the tress OF

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Tkc » Tiaching of Ens:!

Gcocral Ediio> — Sir Urnky Newdolt

STORY POEMS FROM

THOMAS NELSON & SONS, Ltd.

The Life and Death of Jason (Episodes) . 19

Introduction to "Cupid and Psyche” . 169

The Story or “Cupid and Psyche” . . 175

His Schoolboyish Disposition . —

seventh ve.ar, tlie Morrises

Topsy.’ ” The very title of the poem, The Willow and

tale palette. And it was a simple yet strangely

On coming of age he inherited nearly

work means to die.” Friendl}’^ though he was, work

time to anj' one, he held it to be too valuable.” His

was rather as some whimsical Dickensian Boffin or

XIV GENER.\L 1^:TR0 DUCTI 0^:

II. HOW JASOK CAME TO BE WRITTEN

^[orris’s Dream World. —Mlierever he turned,

duced to seeking its stories and settings in the past.

Forget six counties overhung with smoke.

So did he undertake to tell a great series of old

he had not Scott’s supremely' direct sense of action.

Collecting his Materials . —

should be a unifonn dim blue.

III. HOW TO READ THE POEM

(«) On a second or later reading, two maps should

STORY POEMS FROM

and so, after many troubles, came back to lolchos again.

In Thessaly, beside the tumbhng sea.

the origin of the names.

And southward is a gentle sea and kind.

Whom, in unhappy- da\-s and long ago,

While /Eson, like a poor and feeble lord,

Therefore the child will I straight send away.

LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 21

To say, if ever 3^0 have held him dear.

" And then,” quoth iEson, '' aU these words being

Minding what words the Centaur saith to thee ;

Of whom thou needest have no whit of fear.”

Now, since the moonless night and dark was come.

And saddled in the court the stout horse stood

Goddess of hunting ; in Greek, Artemis.

22 STORY POEMS FROM MORKIS

\\Tro knew' all things, cried : “ Man with /Eson s

Shall Juno love him till he come to die.

LIFE AND DEATH OF JASON 23

And lay between my arms the noble child.”

Setting the ring and in a little while

The slave departing, reached the open plain.

(Meanwhile Pelias, dreading punishment for his evil

Moreover, to Dodona, where the doves

^Vho, up the temple steps, beneath the weight

And how to forge his iron arrow-heads ;

And how to find within the marshy steads

And through the woods he took him, nor would spare

(One mom in tlie woods did Jason meet a seeming

“ Jason,” she said, “ allfolk shall know' tlij' name,

Restless thou shalt be, as thou now art bold ;

And cunning, as thou now art skilled to watch

And when a fresh gust of the morning breeze

Since now, at last, tlie Gods will have it so :

And know that till thou coraest to the end

Ambro'nal, Divinely fragrant ;